The Brighton road; the classic highway to the south

Ililliiiilliilliiiiiii

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

OF CALIFORNIA

LOS ANGELES

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

HISTORIES OF THE ROADS

— BY —

Charles G. Harper.

THE BRIGHTON ROAD : The Classic Highway

to the South.
THE GREAT NORTH ROAD : London to York.
THE GREAT NORTH ROAD : York to Edinburgh.
THE DOVER ROAD : Annals of an Ancient

Turnpike.
THE BATH ROAD : History, Fashion and

Frivolity on an old Highway.
THE MANCHESTER AND GLASGOW ROAD :

London to Manchester.
THE MANCHESTER ROAD : Manchester to

Glasgow.

THE HOLYHEAD ROAD : London to Birming-
ham.

THE HOLYHEAD ROAD : Birmingham to

Holyhead.
THE HASTINGS ROAD : And The " Happy

Springs of Tun bridge."
THE OXFORD. GLOUCESTER AND MILFORD

HAVEN ROAD : London to Gloucester.
THE OXFORD, GLOUCESTER AND MILFORD

HAVEN ROAD : Gloucester to Milford Haven.
THE NORWICH ROAD. An East Anglian

Highway.
THE NEWMARKET, BURY, THETFORD AND

CROMER ROAD.
THE EXETER ROAD : The West of England

Highway.
THE PORTSMOUTH ROAD.
THE CAMBRIDGE, KING'S LYNN AND ELY

ROAD.

Digitized by tine Internet Arcliive

in 2007 witli funding from

IVIicrosoft Corporation

littp://www.arcliive.org/details/briglitonroadclasOOIiarpiala

GEORGE THE FOURTH.

From the painting by Sir Thomas Latrrence, R.A.

The

BRIGHTON ROAD

The Classic Highway to the South
By CHARLES G. HARPER

Illustrated by the Author, and from old-time
Prints and Pictures

London :

CECIL PALMER

Oakley House, Bloomsbury Street, W.C. i

First Published - 1892

Second Edition ■ 1906

Third and Revised Edition - 1922

Printed in Great Britain by C. Ti!»liiio & Co., Ltd.
53, Victoria Street, Liverpool,
and 187, Fleet Street, London.

DA

[^11

IfRGP/aGE

71 /fANY years ago it occurred to this writer that it
■A r -» would bean interesting thing to write and illustrate
a book on the Road to Brighton. The genesis of that
thought has been forgotten, but the book was written and
published, and has long been out of print. And there
might have been the end of it, but that {from no preconceived
plan) there has since been added a long series of books on
others of our great highways, rendering imperative
re-issu^s of the parent volume.

Two considerations have made that undertaking a
matter of considerable difficulty, either of them sufficiently
weighty. The first was that the original book was written

85408S

PREFACE

at a time when the author had not arrived at a settled
method ; the second is found in the fact of the Brighton
Road being not only the best known of highways, but also
the one most susceptible to change.

When it is remembered that motor-cars have come upon
the roads since then, that innumerable sporting " records "
in cycling, walking, and other forms of progression have
since been made, and that in many other ways the road
is different, it was seen that not merely a re-issue of the
book, but a book almost entirely re-written and re-illustrated
was required. This, then, is what was provided in a
second edition, published in 1906. And now another,
the third, is issued, bringing the story of this highway up
to date.

CHARLES G. HARPER.

March, 1922.

THE ROAD TO BRIGHTON

MILES

Westminster Bridge (Surrey side)

to—

St. Mark's Church, Kennington .... IJ

Brixton Church

3

Streatham ....

5i

Norbury .....

n

Thornton Heath

8

Croydon (\Vhitgift's Hospital)

n

Puriey Corner ....

12

Smitham Bottom

13i

Coulsdon Railway Station .

14J

Merstham ....

171

Redhill (Market Hall)

20^

Horiey (" Chequers ")

24

Povey Cross

25i

Kimberham Bridge

26

(Cross River Mole)

Lowfield Heath

27

Crawley ....

29

Pease Pottage .

81i

Hand Cross

33i

Staplefield Common .

. 34|

Slough Green

36^

Whiteman's Green

37i

Cuckfleld ....

37i

Ansty Cross

38

Bridge Farm

40i

(Cross River Adur)

St. John's Common .

40}

" Friar's Oak " Inn .

42|

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

MILES

Stonepound

43i

Clayton ....

44,1

Pyecombe

45^

Patcham ....

48

Withdean

48J

Preston ....

49|

Brighton (Aquarium)

5U

The Sutton and Reigati

. Route

St, Mark's, Kennington

n

Tooting Broadway

6

Mitcham ....

H

Sutton (" Greyhound ")

11

Tadwort;h

16

Lower Kingswood

17

Reigate Hill

19i

Reigate (Town Hall) .

20^

Woodhatch (" Old Angel ")

2U

Povey Cross

26

Brighton ....

51f

The Bolney and Hickstead Route

Hand Cross 33^

Bolney 39

Hickstead 40J

Savers Common ...... 42

Newtimbcr ....... 44J

Pyecombe ....... 45

Brighton 50i

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PAGE

George the Fourth . . Frontispiece

Sketch-map showing Principal Routes to

Brighton . . . . . . 4

Stage Waggon, 1808 13

The " Talbot " Inn Yard, Borough, about 1815 17

Me and My Wife and Daughter ... 19

The " Duke of Beaufort " Coach starting from
the " Bull and Mouth " Office, Piccadilly

Circus, 1826 31

The " Age," 1829, starting from Castle Square,

Brighton . . . . . . 35

Sir Charles Dance's Steam-carriage leaving

London for Brighton, 1833 . . . 39

The Brighton Day Mails crossing Hookwood

Common, 1838 43

The " Age," 1852, crossing Ham Common . 47

The " Old Times," 1888 . . . . 51

The " Comet," 1890 . . . . . 55

John Mayall, Junior, 1869 . . . . 70

The Stock Exchange Walk: E. F. Broad at

Horley 83

Miss M. Foster, paced by Motor Cycle, passing

Coulsdon . . . . . .86

Kennington Gate : Derby Day, 1839 . . 95

Streatham Common ..... 101

Streatham ....... 107

The Dining Hall, Whitgift Hospital . . Ill

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

PAGE

The Chapel, Hospital of the Holy Trinity

113

Croydon Town Hall

.

120

Chipstead Church .

.

135

Merstham ....

.

139

Gatton Hall and " Town Hall "

.

144

The Switchback Road, Earlswood Common

148

Thunderfield Castle

150

The " Chequers," Horley

151

The " Six Bells," Horley

153

The " Cock," Sutton, 1789 .

157

Kingswood Warren

162

The Suspension Bridge, Reigate

Hill

163

The Tunnel, Reigate

167

Tablet; Batswing Cottages

.' 172

The Floods at Horley .

174

Charlwood ....

176

A Corner in Newdigate Church

177

On the Road to Newdigate

179

Ifield Mill Pond .

180

Crawley : Looking South

183

Crawley, 1789

185

An Old Cottage at Crawley

188

The " George," Crawley

189

Sculptured Emblem of the

Holy Trinity

Crawley Church

191

Pease Pottage

197

The " Red Lion," Hand Cross

201

Cuckfield, 1789 .

203

The Road out of Cuckfield

207

Cuckfield Place .

210

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

The Clock-Tower and Haunted Avenue, Cuck-

field Place ....
Harrison Ainsworth
Old Sussex Fireback, Ridden's Farm
Jacob's Post ....

Clayton Tunnel ....
Clayton Church and the South Downs
The Ruins of Slaugham Place
The Entrance : Ruins of Slaugham Place
Bolney .....

From a Brass at Slaugham
Hickstead Place ....
Newtimber Place ....
Pyecombe : Junction of the Roads
Patcham .....
Old Dovecot, Patcham .
Preston Viaduct : Entrance to Brighton
The Pavilion ....

The Cliffs, Brighthelmstone, 1789 .
Dr. Richard Russell

St. Nicholas, the old Parish Church of Bright
helmstone ....

The Aquarium, before destruction of the
Pier

Chain

PAGE

211

213

223

224

233

235

239

241

243

244

245

247

249

251

254

256

259

263

265

269

271

The road to Brighton — the main route, pre-eminently
the road — is measured from the south side of West-
minster Bridge to the Aquarium. It goes by Croydon,
Redhill, Horley, Crawley, and Cuckfield, and is (or is
supposed to be) 51 1 miles in length. Of this prime
route — the classic way^there are several longer or
shorter variations, of which the way through Clapham,
Mitcham, Sutton, and Reigate, to Povey Cross is the
chief. The modern " record " route is the first of
these two, so far as Hand Cross, where it branches
off and, instead of going through Cuckfield, proceeds
to Brighton by way of Hickstead and Bolney, avoiding
Clayton Hill and rejoining the initial route at
Pyecombe.

The oldest road to Brighton is now but little used.
It is not to be indicated in few words, but may be
taken as the line of road from London Bridge, along
the Kennington Road, to Brixton, Croydon, Godstone
Green, Tilburstow Hill, Blindley Heath, East Grinstead,
Maresfield, Uckfield, and Lewes ; some fifty-nine miles.
This is without doubt the most picturesque route. A
circuitous way, travelled by some coaches was by

2 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Ewell, Leatherhead, Dorking, Horsham, and Mock-
bridge (doubtless, bearing in mind the ancient mires
of Sussex, originally " Muckbridge "), and was 57|
miles in length. An extension of this route lay from
Horsham through Steyning, bringing up the total
mileage to sixty-one miles three furlongs.

This multiplicity of ways meant that, in the variety
of winding lanes which led to the Sussex coast, long
before the fisher village of Brighthelmstone became that
fashionable resort, Brighton, there were places on the
way quite as important to the old waggoners and
carriers as anything at the end of the journey. They
set out the direction, and roads, when they began to
be improved, were often merely the old routes widened,
straightened, and metalled. They were kept ^■ery
largely to the old lines, and it was not until quite late
in the history of Brighton that the present " record "
route in its entirety existed at all.

Among the many isolated roads made or improved,
which did not in the beginning contemplate getting
to Brighton at all, the pride of place certainly belongs
to the ten miles between Reigate and Crawley,
originally made as a causeway for horsemen, and
guarded by posts, so that wheeled traffic could not
pass. This was constructed under the Act 8th
William III., 1696, and was the first new road made
in Surrey since the time of the Romans.

It remained as a causeway until 1755, when it was
widened and thrown open to all traffic, on paying toll.
It was not only the first road to be made, but the last
to maintain toll-gates on the way to Brighton, the
Reigate Turnpike Trust expiring on the midnight of
October 31st, 1881, from which time the Brighton
Road became free throughout.

Meanwhile, the road from London to Croydon was
repaired in 1718 ; and at the same time the road from
London to Sutton was declared to be " dangerous to
all persons, horses, and other cattle," and almost
impassable during five months of the year, and was
therefore repaired, and toll-gates set up along it.

VARIOUS ROUTES 3

Between 1739 and 1749 Westminster Bridge was
building, and the roads in South London, ineluding
the Westminster Bridge Road and the Kennington
Road, were being made. In 1755 the road (about ten
miles) aeross the heaths and downs from Sutton to
Reigate, was authorised, and in 1770 the Act was
passed for widening and repairing the lanes from
Povey Cross to County Oak and Brighthelmstone, by
Cuckfield. By this time, it will be seen, Brighton
had begun to be the goal of these improvements.

The New Chapel and Copthorne road, on the East
Grinstead route, was constructed under the Act of
1770, the route aeross St. John's Common and Burgess
Hill remodelled in 1780, and the road from South
Croydon to Smitham Bottom, Merstham, and Reigate
was engineered out of the narrow lanes formerl}'^
existing on that line in 1807-8, being opened, " at
present toll-free," June 4th, 1808.

In 1813 the Bolney and Hiekstead road, between
Hand Cross and Pyecombe, was opened, and in 1816
the slip-road, avoiding Reigate, through Redhill, to
Povey Cross. Finally, sixty yards were saved on the
Reigate route by the cutting of the tunnel under
Reigate Castle, in 1823. In this way the Brighton
road, on its several branches, grew to be what it is now.

The Brighton Road, it has already been said, is
measured from the south side of Westminster Bridge,
which is the proper starting-point for record-makers
and breakers ; but it has as many beginnings as
Homer had birthplaces. Modern coaches and motor-
car services set out from the barrack-like hotels of
Northumberland Avenue, or other central points, and
the old carriers came to and went from the Borough
High Street ; but the Corinthian starting-point in the
brave old days of the Regency and of George the
Fourth was the " White Horse Cellar "— Hatchett's
" White Horse Cellar "—in Piccadilly. There, any
day throughout the year, the knowing ones were
gathered — with those green goslings who wished to be
thought knowing — exchanging the latest scandal and

sporting gossip of the road,
and rooking and being rooked ;
the high-coloured, full-blooded
ancestors of the present
generation, which looks upon
them as a quite different order
of beings, and can scarce
believe in the reality of those
full habits, those port-wine
countenances, those florid gar-
ments that were characteristic
of the age.

No one now starts from the
" White Horse Cellar," for the
excellent reason that it does
not now exist. The original
" Cellar " was a queer place.
Figure to yourself a basement
room, with sanded floor, and
an odour like that of a wine-
vault, crowded with Regency
bucks drinking or discussing
huge beef- steaks.

It was situated on the south
side of Piccadilly, where the
Hotel Ritz now stands, and
is first mentioned in 1720,
when it was given its name by
Williams, the landlord, in
compliment to the House of
Hanover, the newly-estab-
lished Royal House of Great
Britain, whose cognizance was
a white horse. Abraham
natchett first made the Cellar
famous, both as a boozing-
ken and a coach-office, and
removed it to the opposite
side of the street, where, as
" Hatchett's Hotel and White

LONapN

yBnxron

i Tooting '<K Sfreatham
jMifcham
Thomlbn
titith

fiSOTTON

Crtydc

Rirl^

'inytn^ood

jMerstham

;REDH1U.

2.afe

'Horley

fPoileyCrotS

TCrawley

feasefotkoe 9ate

k< Hand Cross

Mbotuv^ \

^laylbn

IksPdfcharn

Frcslonf

BRIGHTON

SPORTSMEN 5

Horse Cellar," it remained until 1884, when the present
" Albemarle " arose on its site, with a " White Horse "
restaurant in the basement.

What Piccadilly and the neighbourhood of the
" White Horse Cellar " were like in the times of Tom
and Jerry we may easily discover from the con-
temporary pages of " Real Life in London," written
by one " Bob Tallyho," recounting the adv^entures of
himself and " Tom Dashall." A prize-fight was to
be held on Copthorne Common between Jack Randall,
" the Nonpareil " — called in the pronunciation of that
time the " Nunparell " — and Martin, endeared to
"the Fancy" as the "Master of the Rolls."*
Naturally, the roadswere thronged, and "Piccadilly
was all in motion — coaches, carts, gigs, tilburies,
whiskies, buggies, dogcarts, sociables, dennets, curricles,
and sulkies were passing in rapid succession, inter-
mingled with tax-carts and waggons decorated with
laurel, conveying company of the most varied descrip-
tion. Here was to be seen the dashing Corinthian
tickling up his tits, and his hang-up set-out of hlood and
bone, giving the go-by to a heavy drag laden with eight
brawny, bull-faced blades, smoking their way down
behind a skeleton of a horse, to whom, in all probability,
a good feed of corn would have been a luxury ;
pattering among themselves, occasionally chaffing the
more elevated drivers by whom they were surrounded,
and pushing forward their nags with all the ardour of
a British merchant intent upon disposing of a valuable
cargo of foreign goods on 'Change. There was a
waggon full of all sorts upon the lark, succeeded by a
donkey-caH with four insides ; but Neddy, not liking
his burthen, stopped short in the way of a dandy, whose
horse's head, coming plump up to the back of the crazy ,
vehicle at the moment of its stopj)age, threw the- rider
into the arms of a dustman, who, hugging his customer
with the determined grasp of a bear, swore, d — n his
eyes, he had saved his life, and he expected he would
stand something handsome for the Gemmen all round,

*nc was a baker : hence the uickaame.

6 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

for if he had not ])itched into their cart he would
certainly have broke his neck ; which being complied
with, though reluctantly, he regained his saddle, and
proceeded a little more cautiously along the remainder
of the road, Avhile groups of pedestrians of all ranks
and appearances lined each side."

On their way they pass Hyde Park Corner, where
they encounter one of a notorious trio of brothers,
friends of the Prince Regent and companions of his in
every sort of excess — the Barrymores, to wit, named
severally Hellgate, Newgate, and Cripplegate, the last
of this unholy trinity so called because of his chronic
limping ; the two others' titles, taken with the
characters of their bearers, are self-explanatory.

Dashall points his lordship out to his companion, who
is new to London life, and requires such explanations.

" The driver of that tilbury," says he, " is the
celebrated Lord C'rijjplcgate,* with his usual equipage ;
his blue cloak with a scarlet hning hanging loosely
over the vehicle gives an air of importance to his
appearance, and he is always attended by that boy,
who has been denominated his Cupid : he is a nobleman
by birth, a gentleman by courtesy (oh, witty Dashall I),
and a gamester by j)rofession. He exhausted a large
estate upon odd and even, serenes the main, etc., till,
having lost sight of the main chance, he found it
necessary to curtail his establishment and enliven his
prospects by exchanging a first floor for a second,
without an opportunity of ascertaining whether or not
these alterations were best suited to his high notions
or exalted taste ; from which, in a short time, he was
induced, either by inclination or necessity, to take a
small lodging in an obscure street, and to sport a gig
and one horse, instead of a curricle and pair, though
in former times he used to drive four-in-hand, and was
acknowledged to be an excellent whip. He still,
however, possessed money enough to collect together
a large quantity of halfpence, which in his hours of
relaxation he managed to turn to good account by the

* Henry Barry, Earl of Barry more, in the peerage of Irelaud.

LORD CRIPPLEGATE 7

Ibllowiiig stratagem : — He distributed liis halfpence on
the floor of his little parlour in straight lines, and
ascertained how many it would require to cover it.
Having thus prepared himself, he invited some wealthy
spendthrifts (with whom he still had the power of
associating) to sup with him, and he welcomed them
to his habitation with much cordiality. The glass
circulated freely, and each recounted his gaming or
amorous adventures till a late hour, when, the effects
of the bottle becoming visible, he proposed, as a
momentary suggestion, to name how many halfpence,
laid side by side, would carpet the floor, and
offered to lay a large wager that he would guess
the nearest.

" ' Done ! done ! ' was echoed round the room.
Every one made a deposit of £100, and every one made
a guess, equally certain of success ; and his lordship
declaring he had a large stock of halfpence by him,
though perhaps not enough, the experiment was to bo
tried immediately. 'Twas an excellent hit !

" The room was cleared ; to it they went ; the
halfpence were arranged rank and file in military
order, when it appeared that his lordship had certainly
guessed (as well he might) nearest to the number.
The consequence was an immediate alteration of his
lordship's residence and appearance : he got one step
in the world by it. He gave up his second-hand gig
for one warranted new ; and a change in his vehicle
may pretty generally be considered as the barometer
of his pocket."

And so, with these jiiquant biographical remarks,
they betook themselves along the road in the early
morning, passing on their way many curious itinerants,
whose trades have changed and decayed, and are now
become nothing but a dim and misty memory ; as, for
instance, the sellers of warm " salop," the forerunners
of the early coffee-stalls of our own day.

8 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

II

But hats off to the Prince of Wales, the Prince Regent
the King ! Never, while the Brighton Road remains
the road to Brighton, shall it be dissociated from George
the Fourth, who, as Prince, had a palace at either end,
and made these fifty-odd miles in a very special sense
a Via Regia. It was in 1782, when but twenty years
of age, that he first knew Brighton, and until the last —
for close upon forty-eight years — it retained his
affections. He is thus the presiding genius of the
way ; and because, when we speak or think of the
Brighton Road, we cannot help thinking of him, I
have appropriately placed the portrait of George the
Fourth, by the courtly Lawrence, in this book.

The Prince and King was the inevitable product
of his times and of his upbringing : we mostly are.
Only the rarest and most forceful figures can mould
the world to their own form.

The character of George the Fourth has been the
theme of writers upon history and sociology, of
essayists, diarists, and gossip-mongers without number,
and most of then have pictured him in very dark
colours indeed. But Horace Walpole, perhaps the
clearest-headed of this company, shows in his " Last
Journals " that from his boyhood the Prince was
governed in the stupidest way — in a manner, indeed,
but too well fitted to spoil a spirit so high and so
impetuous, and impulses so generous as then were his.

He proves what we may abundantly learn from
other sources, that the narrow-minded and obstinate
George the Third, petty and parochial in public and in
private, was jealous of his son's superior parts, and
endeavoured to hide his light beneath the bushel of
seclusion and inadequate training. It was impossible
for such a father to appreciate cither the qualities or
the defects of such a son. " The uncommunicative
selfishness and pride of George the Third confined him
to domestic virtues," says Walpole, and adds, " Nothing
could equal the King's attention to seclude his son

THE PRINCE 9

and protract his nonage. It went so absurdly far that
he was made to wear a shirt with a frilled collar like
that of babies. He one day took hold of his collar
and said to a domestic, ' See how I am treated ! ' "

The Duke of Montagu, too, was charged with the
education of the Prince, and " he was utterly incapable
of giving him any kind of instruction. . . . The
Prince was so good-natured, but so uninformed, that
he often said, ' I wish anybody would tell me what I
ought to do ; nobody gives me any instruction for my
conduct.' " The absolute poverty of the instruction
afforded him, the false and narrow ways of the royal
household, and the evil example and low companionship
of his uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, did much to
spoil the Prince.

To quote Walpole again : " It made men smile
to find that in the palace of {)iety and pride his Royal
Highness had learnt nothing but the dialect of footmen
and grooms. . . . He drunk hard, swore, and passed
every night in * . . . ; such were the fruits of his
being locked up in the palace of piety."

He proved, too, an intractable and undutiful son ;
but that was the result to be expected, and we cannot
join Thackeray in his sentimental snivel over George
the Third.

He was a faithless husband, but his wife was
impossible, and even the mob who supported her
quailed when the Marquis of Anglesey, baited in front of
his house and compelled to drink her health, did so with
the bitter rider, "And may all your wives be like her ! "
All high-spirited young England flocked to the side
of the Prince of Wales. He was the Grand Master of
Corinthianism and Tom-and-.Jerryism. It was he who
peopled these roads with a numerous and brilliant
concourse of whirling travellers, where before had been
only infrequent plodders amidst the Sussex sloughs.
To his ])rince]y presence, radiant by the Old Steyne,
hasted all manner of people ; prince and prizefighter,

• Hiatus In the Journals, arranged by the editor for benefit of
the Young Person !

10 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

statesman and nobleman ; beauties noble and ignoble,
and all who lived their lives. There he made incautious
guests helplessly drunk on the potent old brandy he
called " Diabolino," and then exposed them in
embarrassing situations ; and there — let us remember
it — he entertained, and was the beneficent patron of,
the foremost artists and literary men of his age. The
Zeitgeist (the Spirit of the Time) resided in, was
personified in, and radiated from him. He was the
First Gentleman in Europe, but is to us, in the perspec-
tive of a hundred years or so, something more : the
type and exemplar of an age.

He should have been endowed with perennial youth,
but even his s[)lendid vitality faded at last, and he
grew stout. Leigh Hunt called him a " fat Adonis of
fifty," and was flung into prison. for it ; and prison is
a fitting place for a satirist who is stupid enough to see
a misdemeanour in those misfortunes. No one who
could help it would be fat, or fifty. Besides, to accuse
one royal personage of being fat is to reflect upon all :
it is an accompaniment of royalty.

Thackeray denounced his wig ; but there is a
prejudice in favour of flowing locks, and the King
gracefully acknowledged it. One is not damned for
being fat, fifty, and wearing a wig ; and it seems a
curious code of morality that would have it so ; for
although we may not all lose our hair nor grow fat,
we must all, if we are not to die young, grow old and
pass the grand climacteric.

There has been too much abuse of the Regency
times. Where modern moralists, folded within their
little sheep-walks from observation of the real world,
mistake is in comparing those times with these, to
the disadvantage of the past. They know nothing of
life in the round, and seeing it only in the flat, cannot
predicate what exists on the other side. To them
there is, indeed, no other side, and things, despite the
poet, are what they seem, and nothing else.

They lash the manners of the Regency, and think
they are dealing out punishment to a bygone state of

SOCIETY: THEN AND NOW 11

things ; but human nature is the same in all centuries.
The fact is so obv ious that one is ashamed to state it.
The Regency was a terrible time for gambling ; but
Tranby Croft had a similar repute when Edward the
Seventh was Prince of Wales. Bridge is a fine game,
and what, think you, supports the evening newspapers ?
The news ? Certainly : the Betting News. Cock-
fighting was a brutal sport, and is now illegal, but is
it dead ? Oh dear,, no. Virtue was not general in
the picturesque times of George the Fourth. Is it
now ? Study the Cause Lists of the Divorce Courts.
Worse offences are still punished by law, but are later
condoned or explained by Society as an eccentricity.
Society a hundred years ago did not plumb such
depths.

In short, behind the surface of things, the Regency
riot not only exists, but is outdone, and Tom and Jerry,
could they return, would find themselves very dull
dogs indeed. It is all the doing of the middle classes,
that the veil is thrown over these things. In times
when the middle class and the Nonconformist
Conscience traditionally lived at Clapham, it mattered
comparatively little what excesses were committed ;
but that class has so increased that it has to be sub-
divided into Upper and Lower, and has Claphams of
its own everywhere. It is — or they are— more wealthy
than before, and they read things, you know, and are
a power in Parliament, and are something in the
dominie sort to those other classes above and below.

Ill

The coaching and waggoning liistory of the road to
Brighthelmstone (as it then was called) emerges dimly
out of the formless ooze of tradition in 1681. In De
Laune's " Present State of Great Britain," published
in that year, in the course of a list of carriers^ coaches,
and stage-waggons in and out of London, we find

12 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Thomas Blewman, carrier, coming from " Bredhemp-
stone " to the " Queen's Head," ^outhwark, on
Wednesdays, and, setting forth again on Thursdays,
reaching Shoreham the same day : which was remark-
ably good travelUng for a carrier's waggon in the
seventeenth century. Here, then, we have the Father
Adam, the great original, so far as records can tell us,
of all the after charioteers of the Brighton Road. It
is not until 1732, that, from the pages of " New
Remarks on London," published by the Company of
Parish Clerks, we hear anything further. At that date
a coach set out on Thursdays from the " Talbot," in
the Borough High Street, and a van on Tuesdays from
the " Talbot " and the " George." In the summer
of 1745 the " Flying Machine " left the " Old Ship,"
Brighthelmstone at 5.30 a.m., and reached Southwark
in the evening.

But the first extended and authoritative notice is
found in 1746, when the widow of the Lewes carrier
advertised in The Lewes Journal of December 8th that
she was continuing the business :

Thomas Smith, the Old Lewes Carrier, being dead,

THE business IS NOW CONTINUED BY HIS WIDOW, MARY

SMITH, who gets into the " George Inn," in the Borough,
Southwark, every Wednesday in the afternoon, and sets
out for Lewes every Thursday morning by eight o'clock,
and brings Goods and Passengers to Lewes, li'letching,
Chayley, Newick and all places adjacent at reasonable rates.
Performed {ij God permit) by

MARY SMITH.

We may perceive by these early records that the real
original way down to the Sussex coast was by the
Croydon, Godstone, East Grinstead and Lewes route,
and that its outlet must have been Newhaven, which,
despite its name, is so very ancient a place, and was a
port and harbour when Brighthelmstone was but a
fisher-village.

That is the only glimpse we get of the widow Smith
and her Maggon ; but the " George Inn, in the

14 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Borough," that sh3 " got into," is still in the Borough
High Street. It is a fine and flourishing remnant of
an ancient galleried hostelry of the time of Chaucer,
and it is characteristic of the continuity of English
social, as well as political history that, although
waggons and coaches no longer come to or set out
from the " George," its spacious yard is now a railway
receiving-office for goods, where the railway vans,
those descendants of the stage-waggon, thunderously
come and go all day.

It will be observed that the traffic in those days
went to and from Southwark, which was then the
great business centre for the carriers. Not yet was
the Brighton road measured from Westminster Bridge,
for the adequate reason that there was no bridge at
Westminster until 1749 : only the ferry from the
Horseferry Road to Lambeth.

Widow Smith's waggon halted at Lewes, and it is
not until ten years later than the date of her advertise-
ment that we hear of the Brighthelmstone conveyance.
The first was that announced by the pioneer, James
Batchelor, in The Sussex Weekly AdvcHiser, May 12th,
1756:

NOTICE IS HEREBY GIVEN that the LEWES ONE
DAY STAGE COACH or CHAISE sets out from the
Talbot Inn, in the Borough, on Saturday next, the lOtli
instant.

When likewise the Brighthelmstone Stage begins.
Performed {if God permit) by

JAMES BATCHELOR.

The " Talbot " inn, which stood on the site of the
ancient " Tabard," of Chaucerian renown, disappeared
from the Borough High Street in 1870. What its
picturesque yard was like in 1815, with the waggons
of the Sussex carriers, let the illustration tell.

Let us halt awhile, to admire the courage of those
coaching and waggoning pioneers who, in the days
before " the sea-side " had been invented, and few
people travelled, dared the awful roads for what must

SUSSEX ROADS 15

then have been a preearious business. Sussex roads
in especial had a most unenviable name for miriness,
and wheeled traffic was so difficult that for many years
after this period the farmers and others continued to
take their womenkind about in the pillion fashion here
caricatured by Henry Bunbury.

Horace Walpole. indeed, travelling in Sussex in
1749, visiting Arundel and Cowdray, acquired a too
intimate acquaintance with their phenomenal depth
of mud and ruts, inasmuch as he — finicking little
gentleman — was compelled to alight precipitately from
his overturned chaise, and to foot it like any common
fellow. One quite pities his daintiness in the narration
of his sorrows, picturesquely set forth by that accom-
plished letter-writer arrived home to the safe seclusion
of Strawberry Hill. He writes to George Montagu,
and dates August 26th, 1749 :

" Mr. Chute and I returned from our expedition
miraculously well, considering all our distresses. If
you love good roads, conveniences, good inns, plenty
of postilions and horses, be so kind as never to go into
Sussex. We thought ourselves in the northest part
of England ; the whole county has a Saxon air, and
the inhabitants are savage, as if King George the
Second was the first monarch of the East Angles.
Coaches grow there no more than balm and spices :
we were forced to drop our post-chaise, that resembled
nothing so much as harlequin's calash, which was
occasionally a chaise or a baker's cart. We journeyed
over alpine mountains " (Walpole, you will observe,
was, equally with the evening journalist of these happy
times, not unaccustomed to exaggerate) " drenched in
clouds, and thought of harlequin again, when he was
driving the chariot of the sun through the morning
clouds, and was so glad to hear the aqua vitce man crying
a dram. ... I have set up my staff, and finished my
pilgrimages for this year. Sussex is a great damper of
curiosity."

Thus he prattles on, delightfully describing the
peculiarities of the several places he visited with this

16 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Mr, Chute, " whom," says he, "I have created
Strawberry King-at-Arms." One wonders what that
mute, inglorious Chute thought of it all ; if he was as
disgusted with Sussex sloughs and moist unpleasant
" mountains " as his garrulous companion. Chute
suffered in silence, for the sight of pen, ink, and paper
did not induce in him a fury of composition ; and so
we shall never know what he endured.

Then the pedantic Doctor John Burton, who
journeyed into Sussex in 1751, had no less unfortunate
acquaintance with these miry ways than our dilettante
of Strawberry Hill. To those who have small Latin
and less Greek, this traveller's tale must ever remain
a sealed book ; for it is in those languages that he
records his views upon ways and means, and men and
manners, in Sussex. As thus, for example :

" I fell immediately upon all that was most bad,
upon a land desolate and muddy, whether inhabited
by men or beasts a stranger could not easily distinguish,
and upon roads which were, to explain concisely what
is most abominable, Sussexian. No one would
imagine them to be intended for the people and the
public, but rather the byways of individuals, or, more
truly, the tracks of cattle-drivers ; for everywhere the
usual footmarks of oxen appeared, and we too, who
were on horseback, going along zigzag, almost like
oxen at plough, ad\anced as if we were turning back,
while we followed out all the twists of the roads.
. . . My friend, I will set before you a kind of problem
in the manner of Aristotle : — Why comes it that the
oxen, the swine, the women, and all other animals (!)
are so long-legged in Sussex ? Can it be from the
difficulty of pulling the feet out of so much mud
by the strength of the ankle, so that the muscles
become stretched, as it were, and the bones
lengthened ? "

A doleful tale. Presently he arrives at the conclusion
that the peasantry " do not concern themselves with
literature or philosophy, for they consider the pursuit
of such things to be only idling," which is not so very

18 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

remarkable a trait, after all, in the character of an
agricultural people.

Our author eventually, notwithstanding the terrible
roads, arrived at Brighthelmstone, by way of Lewes,
" just as day was fading." It was, so he says, " a
village on the sea-coast, lying in a valley gradually
sloping, and yet deep. It is not, indeed, contemptible
as to size, for it is throngetl with peo})le, though the
inhabitants are mostly very needy and wretched in
their mode of living, occupied in the employment of
fishing, robust in their bodies, laborious, and skilled
in all nautical crafts, and, as it is said, terrible cheats
of the custom-house officers." As who, indeed, is not,
allowing the opportunity ?

Batchelor, the pioneer of Brighton coaching,
continued his enterprise in 1757, and with the coming
of spring, and the drying of the roads, his coaches,
which had been laid up in the winter, after the usual
custom of those times, were plying again. In May he
advertised, " for the convenience of country gentlemen,
etc.," his London, Lewes, and Brighthelmstone stage-
coach, which performed the journey of fifty-eight miles
in two days ; and exclusive persons, who preferred to
travel alone, might have post-chaises of him.

Brighthelmstone had in the meanwhile sprung into
notice. The health-giving qualities of its sea air, and
the then " strange new eccentricity " of sea-bathing,
advocated from 1750 by Dr. Richard Russell, had
already given it something of a vogue among wealthy
invalids, and the growing traffic was worth competing
for. Competitors therefore sprang up to share
Batchelor's busines<^. Most of them merely added
stage-coaches like his, but in May, 1762, a certain
" J. Tubb," in j^artnership with " S. Brawne," started
a very superior conveyance, going from London one
day and returning from Brighthelmstone the next.
This was the :

LEWES and BRIGHTELMSTONE new FLYIXG
MACHINE (by L'ckfield), hung on steel springs, very neat

ME AND MY WIFE AND DAUGHTER.

From a carualure by Henry liunbury.

20 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

and commodious, to carry Four Passengers, sets out from
the Golden Cross Inn, Charing Cross, on Mondaj^ the 7th of
June, at six o'clock in the morning, and will continue
Monday's, Wednesday's, and Friday's to the White Hart,
at Lewes, and the Castle, at Brightelmstone, where regular
Books are kept for entering passenger's and parcels ; will
return to London Tuesday's, Thursday's, and Saturday's
Each Inside Passenger to Lewes, Thirteen Shillings ; to
Brighthelmstone, Sixteen ; to be allowed Fourteen Pound
Weight for Luggage, all above to pay One Penny per
Pound ; half the fare to be paid at Booking, the other at
entering the machine. Children in Lap and Outside
Passengers to pay half-price.

„ P J I ' J- TUBB.

Performed by g rRAWNE.

Batchelor saw with dismay this coach performing
the whole journey in one day, while his took two.
But he determined to be as good a man as his opponent,
if not even a better, and started the next week, at
identical fares, " a new large Flying Chariot, with a
Box and four horses (by Chailey) to carry two
Passengers only, except three should desire to go
together." The better to crush the presumptuous
Tubb, he later on reduced his fares. Then ensued a
diverting, if by no means edifying, war of advertise-
ments ; for Tubb, unwilling to be outdone, inserted
the following in The Lewes Journal, November, 1762 :

THIS IS TO INFORM THE PUBLIC that, on Monday,
the 1st of November instant, the LEWES and BRIGHT-
HELMSTON FLYING MACHINE began going in one day,
and continues twice a week during the Winter Season to
Lewes only ; sets out from the White Hart, at Lewes,
Mondays and Thursdays at Six o'clock in the Morning,
and returns from the Golden Cross, at Charing Cross,
Tuesdays and Saturdays, at the same hour.

Performed by J. TUBB.

N.B. — Gentlemen, Ladies, and others, are desired to look
narrowly into the Meanness and Design of the other Flying
Machine to Lewes and Brighthelmston, in lowering his

EARLY COACHING 21

prices, whether 'tis thro' conscience or an endeavour to
suppress me. If the former is the case, think how you
have been used for a great number of years, when he
engrossed the whole to himself, and kept you two days upon
the road, going fifty miles. If the latter, and he should be
lucky enough to succeed in it, judge whether he wont
return to his old prices, when you cannot help yourselves,
and use you as formerly. As I have, then, been the remover
of this obstacle, which you have all granted by your great
encouragement to me hitherto, I, therefore, hope for the
continuance of your favours, which will entirely frustrate
the deep-laid schemes of my great opponent, and lay a
lasting obligation on, — Your very humble Servant,

J. TUBR.

To this replies Batchelor, possessed with an idea of
vested interests pertaining to himself :

WHEREAS, Mr. Tubb, by an Advertisement in this
paper of Monday last, has thought fit to cast some invidious
Reflections upon me, in respect of the lowering my Prices
and being two days upon the Road, with other low insinua-
tions, I beg leave to submit the following matters to the
calm Consideration of the Gentlemen, Ladies, and other
Passengers, of what Degree soever, who have been pleased
to favour me, viz. :

That our Family first set up the Stage Coach from
London to Lewes, and have continued it for a long Series
of Years, from Father to Son and other Branches of the
same Race, and that even before the Turnpikes on the
Lewes Road were erected they drove their Stage, in the
Summer Season, in one day, and have continued to do ever
since, and now in the Winter Season twice in the week.
And it is likewise to be considered that many aged and
infirm Persons, who did not chuse to rise early in the
Morning, were very desirous to be two Days on the Road
for their own Ease and Conveniency, therefore there was no
obstacle to be removed. And as to lowering my pnces, let
every one judge whether, when an old Servant of the
Country perceives an Endeavour to suppress and supplant
him in his Business, he is not well justified in taking all
measures in his Power for his own Security, and even to
oppose an unfair Adversary as far as he can. 'Tis, therefore,

22 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

hoped that the descendants of your very ancient Servants
will still meet with your farther Encouragement, and leave
the Schemes of our little Opponent to their proper Deserts. —
I am, Your old and present most obedient Servant,

J. BATCHELOR.
December 13, 1762.

The rivals both kept to the road until the death of
Batchelor, in 1766, when his business was sold to Tubb,
w ho took into partnership a Mr. Davis. Together they
started, in 1767, the first service of a daily coach in the
" Lewes and Brighthelmstone Flys," each carrying
four passengers, one to London and one to Brighton
every day.

Tubb and Davis had in 1770 one " machine " and
one waggon on this road, fare by " machine " 14*.
The machine ran daily to and from London, starting
at five o'clock in the morning. The waggon was three
days on the road. Another machine was also running,
but with the coming of winter these machines per-
formed only three double journeys each a week.

In 1777 another stage- waggon was started by
" Lashmar & Co." It loitered between the " King's
Head," Southwark, and the " King's Head," Brighton,
starting from London every Tuesday at the unearthly
hour of 3 a.m., and reaching its destination on Thursday
afternoons.

On May 31st, 1784, Tubb and Davis put a " light
post-coach " on the road, running to Brighton one day
returning to London the next, in addition to their
already running " machine " and " post-coach." This
new conveyance presumably made good time, four
" insides " only being carried.

Four years later, when Brighton's sun of splendour
was rising, there were on the road between London
and the sea three " machines," three light post-coaches,
two coaches, and two stage- waggons. Tubb now
disai)pears, and his firm becomes Davis & Co. Other
proprietors were Ibbcrson & Co., Bradford & Co., and
Mr. Wesson.

GROWTH OF COACHINC; 23

On May Ist, 1791, the (irst Brighton Mail coacli
was established. It was a two-horse affair, running
by Lewes and East Grinstead, and taking twelve hours
to perform the journey. It was not well supported
by the public, and as the Post OfHce would not pay
the contraetors a higher mileage, it was at some
uncertain j)eriod withdrawn.

About 1796 eoaeh offices were opened in Brigliton
for the sole despatch of coaching t)usiness, the time
having passed away for the old custom of starting
from inns. Now, too, were different tales to tell of
these roads, after the Pavilion had been set in course
of building. Royalty and the Court could not endure
to travel upon such evil tracks as had hitherto been
the lot of travellers to Brighthelmstone. Presently,
instead of a dearth of roads and a plethora of ruts,
there became a choice of good highways and a plenty
of travellers upon them.

Numerous coaches ran to meet the demands of the
travelling public, and these continually increased in
number and improved in speed. About this time
first appear the firms of Henwood, Crossweller,
Cuddington, Pockney & Harding, whose office was at
No. 44, East Street ; and Boulton, Tilt, Hicks, Baul-
comb & Co., at No. 1, North Street. The most
remarkable thing, to my mind, about those companies
is their long-winded names. In addition to the old
service, there ran a " night post-coach " on alternate
nights, starting at 10 p.m. in the season. One then
went to or from London generally in " about " eleven
hours, if all went well. If you could afford only a ride
in the stage- waggon, why then you were carried the
distance by the accelerated (!) waggons of this line in
two days and one night.

24 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

IV

Erredge, the historian of Brighton, tells something
of the social side of Brighton Road coaching at the
beginning of the nineteenth century. Social indeed,
as you shall see :

" In 1801 two pair-horse coaches ran between
London and Brighton on alternate days, one up, the
other down, driven by INIessrs. Crossweller and Hine.
The progress of these coaches was amusing. The one
from London left the Blossoms Inn, Lawrence Lane,
at 7 a.m., the passengers breaking their fast at the
Cock, Sutton, at 9. The next stoppage for the purpose
of refreshment was at the Tangier, Banstead Downs —
a rural little spot, famous for its elderberry wine,
which used to be brought from the cottage ' roking
hot,' and on a cold wintry morning few refused to
partake of it. George IV. invariably stopped here and
took a glass from the hand of Miss Jeal as he sat in
his carriage. The important business of luncheon took
place at Reigate, where sufficient time was allowed the
passengers to view the Baron's Cave, where, it is said,
the barons assembled the night previous to their
meeting King John at Runymeade. The grand halt
for dinner was made at Staplefield Common, celebrated
for its famous black cherry-trees, under the branches
of which, when the fruit was ripe, the coaches were
allowed to draw uj^ and the jiassengers to partake of
its tempting produce. The hostess of the hostelry
here was famed for her rabbit-puddings, which, hot,
were always waiting the arrival of the coach, and to
which the travellers ne^'er failed to do such ample
justice, that ordinarily they found it quite impossible
to leave at the hour appointed ; so grogs, pipes, and
ale were ordered in, and, to use the language of the
fraternity, ' not a wheel wagged ' for two hours.
Handcross was a little resting-place, celebrated for
its ' neat ' liquors, the landlord of the inn standing,
bottle in hand, at the door. He and several other
bonifaccs at Friars' Oak, etc., had the reputation of

COMPETITION 25

being on pretty good terms with the smugglers who
carried on their operations with such audacity along
the Sussex coast.

" After walking up Clayton Hill, a cup of tea was
sometimes found to be necessary at Patcham, after
which Brighton was safely reached at 7 p.m. It must
be understood that it was the custom for the passengers
to walk up all the hills, and even sometimes in heavy
weather to give a push behind to assist the jaded
horses."

But it was not always so ideal or so idyllic. That
there were discomforts and accidents is evident from
the wordy warfare of advertisements that followed
U[)on the starting of the Royal Brighton Four Horse
Company in 1802. As a competitor with older firms,
it seems to have aroused much jealousy and slander,
if we may believe the following contemporary
advertisement :

THE ROYAL BRIGHTON Four Horse Coach Company
beg leave to return their sincere thanks to their Friends and
the Public in general for the very liberal support they have
experienced since the starting of their Coaches, and assure
them it will always be their greatest study to have their
Coaches safe, with good Horses and sober careful Coachmen.

They likewise wish to rectify a report in circulation of
their Coach having been overturned on Monday last, by
which a gentleman's leg was broken, «fee., no such thing
having ever happened to either of their Coaches. The Fact
is it was one of the Blue Coaches instead of the Royal
New Coach.

*^i* As several mistakes have happened, of their friends
being booked at other Coach oflices, they are requested to
book themselves at the ROYAL NEW COACH OFFICE,
CATHERINE'S HEAD, 47, East Street.

The coaching business grew rapidly, and in an
advertisement offering for sale a portion of the coaching
business at No. 1, North Street, it was stated that the
annual returns of this firm were more than £12,000
per annum, yielding from Christmas, 1791', to

26 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Christmas, 1808, se\'eii and a half per cent, on the
capital invested, besides purchasing the interest of
four of the partners in the concern In this last year
two new businesses were started, those of Waldegra\'e
& Co., and Pattenden & Co. Fares now ruled high —
23*. inside ; 13*. outside.

The year 1809 marked the beginning of a new and
strenuous coaching era on this road. Then Crossweller
& Co. commenced to run their " morning and night "
coaches, and William " Miller " Bradford formed his
company. This was an association of twelve members,
contributing £100 each, for the purpose of establishing
a " double " coach — that is to say, one up and one
down, each day. The idea was to " lick creation "
on the Brighton Road by accelerating the speed, and
to this end they acquired some forty-five horses then
sold out of the Inniskilling Dragoons, at that time
stationed at Brighton. On May Day, 1810, the
Brighton Mail was re-established. These " Royal
Night Mail Coaches " as they were grandiloquently
announced, were started by arrangement with the
Postmaster-General. The speed, although much
improved, was not yet so very great, eight hours being
occupied on the way, although these coaches went by
what was then the new cut via Croydon. Like the
Dover, Hastings, and Portsmouth mails, the Brighton
Mail was two-horsed. It ran to and from the
" Blossoms " Inn, Lawrence Lane, Cheapside, and
never attained a better performance than 7 hours
20 minutes, a speed of 7^ miles an hour. It had,
however, this distinction, if it may so be called : it
was the slowest mail in the kingdom.

It was on June 25th, 1810, that an accident befell
Waldegrav e's " Accommodation " coach on its up
journey. Near Brixton Causeway its hind wheels
collapsed, owing to the heavy weight of the loaded
vehicle. By one of those strange chances when truth
appears stranger than fiction, there chanced to be a
farmer's waggon jmssing the coach at the instant of
its overturning. Into it were shot the " outsiders,"

A COACH ROBBERY 27

fortunate in this comparative!}' easy fall. Still, shocks
and bruises were not few, and one gentleman had his
thigh broken.

By June, 1811, traffic had so increased that there
were then no fewer than twenty-eight coaches running
between Brighton and London. On February 5th in
the following year occurred the only great road robbery
known on this road. This was the theft from the
" Blue " coach of a package of bank-notes representing
a sum of between three and four thousand pounds
sterling. Crosswellers were proprietors of the coach,
and from them Messrs. Brown, Lashmar & West, of
the Brighton Union Bank, had hired a box beneath
the seat for the conveyance of remittances to and
from London. On this day the Bank's London
correspondents placed these notes in the box for
transmission to London, but on arrival the box was
found to have been broken open and the notes all
stolen. It would seem that a carefully planned
conspiracy had been entered into by several persons,
who must have had a thorough knowledge of the
means by which the Union Bank sent and received
money to and from the metropolis. On this morning
six persons were booked for inside places. Of this
number two only made an appearance — a gentleman
and a lady. Two gentlemen were picked up as the
coach proceeded. The lady was taken suddenly ill
when Sutton was reached, and she and her husband
were left at the inn there. When the coach arrived
at Reigatc the two remaining passengers went to inquire
for a friend. Returning shortly, they told the coach-
man that the friend whom they had supposed to be
at Brighton had returned to town, then-fore it was of
no use proceeding further.

Thus the coachman and guard had the remainder
of the journey to themselves, while the cash-box, as
was discovered at the journey's end, was minus its
cash. A reward of £300 was innnediately offered for
information that would lead to recovery of the notes.
This was subsequently altered to an offer of 100 guineas

28 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

for information of the offender, in addition to £300
upon recovery of the total amount, or " ten per cent,
upon the amount of so much thereof as shall be
recovered." No reward money was ever paid, for
the notes were never recovered, and the thieves
escaped with their booty.

In 1813 the " Defiance " was started, to run to and
from Brighton and London in the daytime, each way
six hours. This produced the rival " Eclipse," which
belied the suggestion of its name and did not eclipse,
but only equalled, the performance of its model. But
competition had now grown very severe, and fares in
consequence were reduced to — inside, ten shillings ;
outside, five shillings. Indeed, in 1816, a number of
Jews started a coach to run from London to Brighton
in six hours ; or, failing to keep time, to forfeit all
fares. Needless to say, under such Hebrew manage-
ment, and with that liability, it was punctuality
itself; but Nemesis awaited it, in the shape of an
information laid for furious driving.

The Mail, meanwhile, maintained its ancient pace
of a little over six miles an hour — a dignified, no-hurry,
governmental rate of progression. There was, in fact,
no need for the Brighton Mail to make speed, for the
road from the General Post OfTice is only fifty-three
miles in length, and all the night and the early morning,
from eight o'clock until five or six o'clock a.m., lay
before it.

We come now to the " Era of the Amateur," who not
only flourished pre-eminently on the Brighton Road,
but may be said to have originated on it. The coaching
amateur and the nineteenth century came into existence
almost contemporaneously. Very soon after 1800 it
became " the thing " to drive a coach, and shortly
after this became such a definite ambition, there arose

ARISTOCRATIC COACHMEN 29

that contradiction in terms, that horsey paradox, the
Amateur Professional, generally a sporting gentleman
brought to utter ruin by Corinthian gambols, and
taking to the one trade on earth at which he could
earn a wage. That is why the Golden Age of coaching
won on the Brighton Road a refinement it only aped
elsewhere.

It is curious to see how coaching has always been,
even in its serious days, before steam was thought of,
the chosen amusement of wealthy and aristocratic
whips. Of those who affected the Brighton Road may
be mentioned the Marquis of Worcester, who drove
the " Duke of Beaufort," Sir St. Vincent Cotton of
the " Age," and the Hon. Fred Jerningham, who drove
the Day Mail. The " Age," too, had been driven by
Mr. Stevenson, a gentleman and a graduate of
Cambridge, whose " passion for the bench," as
" Nimrod " says, superseded all other worldly
ambitions. He became a coachman by profession,
and a good professional he made ; but he had not
forgotten his education and early training, and he was,
as a whip, singularly refined and courteous. He
caused, at a certain change of horses on the road, a
silver sandwich-box to be handed round to the
passengers by his servant, with an offer of a glass of
sherry, should any desire one. Another gentleman,
" connected with the first famihes in Wales," whose
father long represented his native county in Parliament,
horsed and drove one side of this ground with Mr.
Stevenson.

This was " Sackie," Sackville Frederick Gwynne, of
Carmarthenshire, who quarrelled with his relatives
and took to the road ; became part proprietor of the
" Age," broke off from Stevenson, and eventually
lived and died at Liverpool as a cabdriver. He drove
a cab till 1874, when he died, aged seventy-three.

Harry Stevenson's connection with the Brighton
Road began in 1827, when, as a young man fresh from
Cambridge, he brought with him such a social
atmosphere and such full-fledged expertness in driving

30 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

a coach that Cripps, a coachmaster of Brighton and
proprietor of the " Coronet," not only was overjoyed
to have him on the box, but went so far as to paint
his name on the coach as one of the licensees, for
which false declaration Cripps was fined in November,
1827.

The parentage and circumstances of Harry Stevenson
are alike mysterious. We are told that he " went the
pace," and was already penniless at twenty-two years
of age, about the time of his advent upon the Brighton
Road. In 1828 his famous "Age" was put on the
road, built for him by Aldebert, the foremost coach-
builder of the period, and appointed in every way
with unexampled luxury. The gold- and silver-
embroidered horse-cloths of the " Age " are very
properly preserved in the Brighton Museum.
Stexenson's career was short, for he died in February,
1830.

Coaching authorities give the palm for artistry to
whips of other roads : they considered the excellence
of this as fatal to the production of those qualities
that went to make an historic name. This road had
become " perhajis the most nearly perfect, and
certainly the most fashionable, of all."

With the introduction of this sporting and
irresponsible element, racing between rival coaches —
and not the mere conveying of passengers — became
the real interest of the coachmen, and proprietors
were obliged to issue notices to assure the timid that
this form of rivalry would be discouraged. A slow
coach, the " Life Preserver," was even put on the road
to win the support of old ladies and the timid, who, as
the record of accidents tells us, did well to be timorous.
But accidents would happen to fast and slow alike.
The " Coburg " was upset at Cuckfield in August, 1819.
Six of the passengers were so much injured that they
could not proceed, and one died the following day
at the " King's Head." The " Coburg " was an
old-fashioned coach, heavy, clumsy, and slow,
carrying six passengers inside and twelve outside.

NAMES OF THE COACHES 83

This type gave place to coaches of Hghter build
about 1823.

In 1826 seventeen coaches ran to Brighton from
London every morning, afternoon, or evening. They
had all of them the most high-sounding of names,
calculated to impress the mind either with a sense of
swiftness, or to awe the understanding with visions
of aristocratic and court-like grandeur. As for the
times they individually made, and for the inns from
which they started, you who are insatiable of dry
bones of fact may go to the Library of the British
Museum and find your Cary (without an " e ") and
do your gnawing of them. That they started at all
manner of hours, even the most uncanny, you must
rest assured ; and that they took off from the (to
ourselves) most impossible and romantic-sounding of
inns, may be granted, when such examples as the
strangely incongruous " George and Blue Boar," the
Herrick-like " Blossoms " Inn, and the idyllic-seeming
" Flower-pot " are mentioned.

Thev were, those seventeen coaches, the " Royal
Mail,"' the " Coronet," " Magnet." " Comet," " Royal
Sussex," "Sovereign," "Alert," "Dart," "Union,"
"Regent," "Times," "Duke of York." "Royal
George," " True Blue," " Patriot," " Post," and the
" Summer Coach," so called, and they nearly all
started from the City and Holborn, calling at West
End booking-offices on their several waj's. Most of
the old inns from which they set out are pulled down,
and the memory of them has faded.

The " Golden Cross " at Charing Cross, from whose
doors started the " Comet " and the " Regent " in
this year of grace 1826, and at which the " Times "
called on its way from Holborn, has been wholly
remodelled ; the " White Horse," Fetter Lane, whence
the " Duke of York " bowled away, has been
demolished ; the " Old Bell and Crown " Inn, Holborn,
where the " Alert," the " Union," and the " Times "
drew up daily in the old-fashioned galleried courtyard,
is swept away. Were Viator to return to-morrow, he
C

34 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

would surely Avant to return to Hades, or Paradise,
whercN er he may be, at ouce. Around him would be,
to his senses, an astonishing whirl and noise of traffic,
despite the wood-paving that has superseded macadam,
which itself displaced the granite setts he knew.
Many strange and horrid portents he would note, and
Holborn would be to him as an unknown street in a
strange town.

Than 1826 the informative Cary goes no further,
and his " Itinerary," excellent though it be, and
invaluable to those who would know aught of the
coaches that plied in the years when it was published,
gives no particulars of the many " butterfly " coaches
and amateur drags that cut in upon the regular
coaches during the rush and scour of the season.

In 1821 it was computed that over forty coaches
ran to and from London and Brighton daily ; in
September, 1822, there were thirty-nine. In 1828
it was calculated that the sixteen permanent coaches
then running, summer and winter, received between
them a sum of £60,000 per annum, and the total sum
expended in fares upon coaching on this road was
taken as amounting to £100,000 per annum. That
leaves the very respectable amoimt of £40.000 for the
season's takings of the " butterflies."

An accident happened to the " Alert " on October
9th, 1829, when the coach was taking up passengers
at Brighton. The horses ran away, and dashed the
coach and themselves into an area sixteen feet deep.
The coach was battered almost to pieces, and one
lady was seriously injured. The horses escaped
unhurt. In 1832, August 25th, the Brighton Mail was
upset near Reigate, the coachman being killed.

This was the era of those early motor-cars, the steam-
carriages, which, in spite of their clumsy construction
and appalling ugliness, arrived very nearly to a
commercial success. Many inventors were engaged
from 1823 to 1838 upon this subject. Walter Hancock,
in particular, began in 1824, and in 1828 proposed a
service of his " land-steamers " between London and

STEAM CARRIAGES 37

Brighton, but did not actually appear upon this road
with his " Infant " until November, 1832. The
contrivance performed the double journey with some
diHiculty and in slower time than the coaches ; but
Hancock on that eventful day confidently declared
that he was perfecting a newer machine by which he
expected to run down in three and a half liours. He
never achieved so much, but in October, 1833, his
" Autopsy," which had been successfully running as an
omnibus bttween Paddington and Stratford, went
from the works at Stratford to Brighton in eight and
a half hours, of which three hours were taken up by a
halt on the road.

No artist has preserved a view of this event for us,
but a print may still be met with depicting the start
of Sir Charles Dance's steam-carriage from Wellington
Street, Strand, for Brighton on some eventful morning
of that same year. A prison-van is, by comparison
with this fearsome object, a thing of beauty ; but in
the picture you will observe enthusiasm on foot and on
horseback, and even four-legged, in the person of the
inevitable dog. In the distance the discerning may
observe the old toll-house on Waterloo Bridge, and the
gaunt shape of the Shot Tower,

By 1839 the coaching business had in Brighton
become concentrated in Castle Square, six of the
seven principal offices being situated there. Five
London coaches ran from the Blue Office (Strevens
& Co.), five from the Red Office (Mr. Goodman's), four
from the " Spread Eagle " (Chaplin & Crunden's), three
from the Age (T. W. Capps & Co.), two from Hine's, East
Street ; two from Snow's (Capps & Chaplin), and two
from the " Globe " (Mr. Vaughan's).

To state the number of visitors to Brighton on a
certain day will give an idea of how well this road
was used during the decade that preceded the coming
of steam. On Friday, October 25th, 1833, upwards
of 480 persons travelled to Brighton by stage-coach.
A comparison of this number with the hordes of
\ isitors cast forth from the Brighton Railway Station

38 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

to-day would render insignificant indeed that little
crowd of 1833 ; but in those times, when the itch of
excursionising was not so acute as now, that day's
return was remarkable ; it was a day that fully
justified the note made of it. Then, too, those few
hundreds benefited the town more certainly than
perhaps their number multiplied by ten does now.
P'or the Brighton visitor of a hundred years ago, once
set down in Castle Square, had to remain the night at
least in Brighton ; for him there was no returning to
London the same day. And so the Brighton folks
had their wicked will of him for a while, and made
something out of him ; while in these times the greater
proportion of a day's excursionists find themselves
either at home in London already, when evening hours
are striking from Westminster Ben, or else waiting
with what patience they may the collecting of tickets
at the bleak and dismal penitentiary platforms of
Grosvenor Road Station ; and, after all, Brighton is
little or nothing advantaged by their visit.

But though the tripper of the coaching era found
it impracticable to have his morning in London, his
day upon the King's Road, and his evening in town
again, yet the pace at which the coaches went in the
'30's was by no means despicable. Ten miles an hour
now became slow and altogether behind the age.

In 1833 the Marquis of Worcester, together with a
Mr. Alexander, put three coaches on the road : an up
and down " Quicksilver " and a single coach, the
" Wonder." The " Quicksilver," named probably in
allusion to its swiftness (it was timed for four hours
and three-quarters), ran to and from what was then a
favourite stopping-place, the " Elephant and Castle."
But on July 15th of the same year an accident, by
which several persons were very seriously injured,
happened to the up " Quicksilver " when starting
from Brighton. Snow, who was driving, could not
hold the team in, and they bolted away, and brought
up violently against the railings by the New Steyne.
Broken arms, fractured arms and ribs, and contusions

COACHING RECORDS 41

were ])lenty. The " Quicksilver." chaiiicleon-like,
changed colour after this mishap, was repainted and
renamed, and reappeared as the " Criterion " ; for the
old name carried with it too great a spice of danger
for the timorous.

On February 4th, 1831, the "Criterion," driven by
Charles Harbour, outstripping the old performances
(»f the " Vivid," and beating the previous wonderfully
quick journey of the " Red Rover," carried down
King William's Speech on the opening of Parliament
in 3 hours and 40 minutes, a coach record that has not
been surpassed, nor quite equalled, on this road, not
even by Selby on his great drive of July 13th, 1888,
his times being out and in respectively, 3 hours 56
minutes, and 3 hours 54 minutes. Then again, on
another road, on May Day, 1830, the " Independent
Tally-ho," running from London to Birmingham,
covered those 109 miles in 7 hours 39 minutes, a better
record than Selby's London to Brighton and back
drive by eleven minutes, with an additional mile to
the course. Another coach, the " Original Tally-ho,"
did the same distance in 7 hours 50 minutes. The
" Criterion " fared ill under its new name, and gained
an unenviable notoriety on June 7th, 1834, being
overturned in a collision with a dray in the Borough.
Many of the passengers were injured ; Sir William
Cosway, who was climbing over the roof when the
collision occurred, was killed.

In 1839, the coaching era, full-blown even to decay,
began to pewk and wither before the coming of steam,
long heralded and now but too sure. The tale of
coaches now decreased to twenty-three ; fares, which
had fallen in the cut-throat competition of coach
proprietors with their fellows in previous years to 105.
inside, 5*. outside for the single journey, now rose to
21s. and 12*. Every man that horsed a coach, seeing
now was the shearing time for the public, ere the now
building railway was opened, strove to make as much as
possible ere he closed his yards, sold his stock, broke his
coach up for firewood, and took himself off the road.

42 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Sentiment hung round the expiring age of coaehing,
and has cast a halo on old-time ways of travelling,
so that we often fail to note the disadvantages and
discomforts endured in those days ; hut, amid regrets
which were often simply maudlin, occur now and
again witticisms true and tersely epigrammatic, as
thus :

For the neat wayside inn aad a dish of cold meat
You've a gorgeous saloon, but there's nothing to eat ;

and a contributor to the Sporting Magazine observes,
very happily, that " even in a ' case ' in a coach, it's
' there you are ' ; whereas in a railway carriage it's
' where are you ? ' " in case of an accident.

On September 21st, 1841, the Brighton Railway
was opened throughout, from London to Brighton,
and with that event the coaching era for this road
virtually died. Professional coach proprietors who
wished to retain the competencies they had accumulated
were well advised to shun all competition with steam,
and others had been wise enough to cut their losses ;
.for the Road for the next sixty years was to become a
discarded institution and the Rail was entering into a
long and undisputed possession of the carrying trade.

The Brighton Mail, however — or mails, for Chaplin
had started a Day Mail in 1838 — continued a few
months longer. The Day Mail ceased in October, 1841,
but the Night Mail held the road until March, 1842.

VI

Between 1841, when the railway was opened all the
way from London, and 1866, during a period of twenty-
five years, coaching, if not dead, at least showed but
few and intermittent signs of life. The " Age,"
which then was owned by Mr. F. W. Capps, was the
last coach to run regularly on the direct road to and
from London. The " Victoria," however, was on

THE COACHING AMATEURS 45

the road, via Dorking and Horsham, until November
8th, 1845.

The " Age " had been one of the best equipped and
driven of all the smart drags in that period when
aristoeratic amateur dragsmen frequented this road,
when the Marquis of Worcester drove the " Beaufort,"
and when the Hon. Fred Jerningham, a son of the
Earl of Stafford, a whip of consummate skill, drove
the day-mail ; a time when the " Age " itself was
driven by that sportsman of gambling memory, Sir
St. Vincent Cotton, and by that Mr. Stevenson who
was its founder, mentioned more particularly on
page 37. When Mr. Capps became proprietor, he had
as coachman several distinguished men. For twelve
years, for instance, Robert Brackenbury drove the
" Age " for the nominal pay of twelve shillings per
week, enough to keep him in whips. It was thus
supremely fitting that it should also have been the
last to survive.

In later years, about 1852, a revived " Age," owned
and driven by the Duke of Beaufort and George Clark,
the " Old " Clark of coaching acquaintance, was on
the road to London, via Dorking and Kingston, in the
summer months. It was discontinued in 1862. A
picture of this coach crossing Ham Common en route
for Brighton was painted in 1852 and engraved. A
reproduction of it is shown here.

From 1862 to 1866 the rattle of the bars and the
sound of the guard's yard of tin were silent on every
route to Brighton ; but in the latter year of horsey
memory and the coaching revival, a number of aris-
tocratic and wealthy amateurs of the whip, among
whom were representatives of the best coaching talent
of the day, subscribed a capital, in shares of £10, and
a little yellow coach, the "Old Times," was put on
the highway. Among the promoters of the venture
were Captain Haworth, the Duke of Beaufort, Lord
H. Thynne, Mr. Chandos Pole, Mr. " Cherry " Angell,
Colonel Armytage, Captain Lawrie, and Mr. Fitzgerald.
The experiment proved unsuccessful, but in the

46 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

following season, commencing in April, 1867, when
the goodwill and a large portion ©f the stock had been
purchased from the original subscribers, by the Duke
of Beaufort, Mr. E. S. Chandos Pole, and Mr. Angell,
the coach was doubled, and two new coaches built
by Holland & Holland.

The Duke of Beaufort was chief among the sportsmen
who horsed the coaches during this season. Mr.
Chandos Pole, at the close of the summer season,
determined to carry on by himself, throughout the
winter, a service of one coach. This he did, and,
aided by Mr. Pole-Gell, doubled it the next summer.

The following year, 1869, the coach had so prosperous
a season that it showed never a clean bill, i.e., never
ran empty, all the summer, either way. The partners
this year were the Earl of Londesborough, Mr. Pole-
Cell, Colonel Stracey Clitherow, Mr. Chandos Pole,
and Mr. G. Meek.

From this season coaching became extremely popular
on the Brighton Road, Mr. Chandos Pole running
his coach until 1872. In the following year an
American amateur, Mr. Tiffany, kept up the tradition
with two coaches. Late in the season of 1874 Captain
Haworth put in an appearance.

In 1875 the " Age " was put upon the road by
Mr. Stewart Freeman, and ran in the season up to and
including 1880, in which year it was doubled. Captain
Blyth had the " Defiance " on the road to Brighton
this year by the circuitous route of Tunbridge Wells.
In 1881 Mr. Freeman's coach was absent from the road,
but Edwin Fownes put the " Age " on, late in the
season. In the following year Mr. Freeman's coach
ran, doubled again, and single in 1883. It was again
absent in 1884-5-6, in which last year it ran to
Windsor ; but it reappeared on the Brighton Road
in 1887 as the " Comet," and in the winter of that year
was continued by Captain Beckett, who had Selby
and Fownes as whips. In 1888 Mr. Freeman ran in
partnership with Colonel Stracey- Clitherow, Lord
Wiltshire, and Mr. Hugh M'Calmont, and in 1889

-^Mt';p

JIM SELBY 49

became partner in an undertaking to run the coach
doubled. The two " Comets " therefore served the
road in this season supported by two additional
subscribers, the Honourable H. Sandys and Mr.
Randolph Wemyss.

In 1888 the " Old Times," forsaking the Oatlands
Park drive, had appeared on the Brighton Road as
a riv'al to the " Comet," and continued throughout
the winter months, until Selby met his death in that
winter.

The " Comet " ran single in the winter season
of 1889-90, and in April was again doubled for the
simimer, running single in 1891-2-3, when Mr. F'reeman
relinquished it.

Mention has already been made of the " Old Times,"
which made such a fleeting appearance on this road ;
but justice was not done to it, or to Selby, in that
incidental allusion. They require a niche to them-
selves in the history of the revival — a niche to which
shall be appended this poetic excerpt :

Here's the " Old Times," it's one of the best,

Which no coaching man will deny.

Fifty miles down the road with a jolly good load.

Between London and Brighton each day.

Beckett, M'Adam, and Dickey, the driver, are there.

Of old Jim's presence every one is aware.

They are all nailing good sorts.

And go in for all sports.

So we'll all go a-coaching to-day.

It is poetry whose like we do not often meet.
Tennyson himself never attempted to capture such
heights of rhyme. He could, and did, rhyme " poet "
with " know it," but he never drove such a Cockney
team as " deny " and " to-dy " to water at the
Pierian springs.

50 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

VII

" Carriages without horses shall go," is the
" prophecy " attributed to that mythical fifteenth
century pythoness, Mother Shipton ; really the ex
post facto forgery of Charles Hindley, the second-hand
bookseller, in 1862. It should not be difficult, on such
terms, to earn the reputation of a seer.

Between 1823 and 1838, ths era of the steam-
carriages, that prognostication had already been
fulfilled ; and again, in another sense, with the intro-
duction of railways. But it was not until the close of
1896 that the real horseless era began to dawn.
Railways, extravagantly discriminative tolls, and
restrictions upon weight and speed killed the steam-
carriages, and for more than fifty years the highways
knew no other mechanical locomotion than that of
the familiar traction-engines, restricted to three miles
an hour and preceded by a man with a red flag. It
is true that a few hardy inventors continued to waste
their time and money on devising new forms of steam-
carriages, and were only fined for their pains when
they were rash enough to venture on the public roads,
as when Bateman, of Greenwich, invented a steam-
tricycle, and Sir Thomas Parky n, Bart., was fined
at Greenwich Police Court, April 8th, 1881, for
riding it.

That incident appears to have finally quenched
the ardour of inventive genius in this country ; but
a new locomotive force already existing unsuspected
was about this period being experimented with on
the Continent by one Gottlieb Daimler, whose name —
generally mispronounced — is now sufficientlj'^ familiar
to all who know anything of motor-cars.

Daimler was at that time connected with the Otto
Gas Engine Works in Germany, where the adaptive
Germans were exploiting the gas-engine principle
invented by Crossley many years before.

In 1886 Daimler produced his motor-bicycle, and
by 1891 his motor engine was adapted by Panhard

MOTOR-CARS 58

and Iie\'assor to other types of vehicles. The French
were thus the first to perceive the great possibilities
of it, and by 1894 the motor-cars already in use in
France were so numerous that the first sporting event
in the history of them — the 760 miles' race from Paris
to Bordeaux and back — was run.

The following year Mr. Evelyn Ellis brought over
the first motor-car to reach England, a 4 h.-p. Panhard,
and a little later, Sir David Salomons, of Tunbridge
Wells, imported a Peugeot. In that town, October
15th, 1895, he held the first show of cars — four or five
at most — in this country. Then began an agitation
raised by a few enthusiasts for the remo\'al of the
existing restrictions upon road traffic. A deputation
waited upon the Local Government Board, and the
Light Locomotives Act of 1896 was passed in August,
legalising mechanical traction up to a speed of fourteen
miles an hour, the Act to come into operation on
November 14th.

For whatever reason, the Light Locomotives Act
was passed so quietly, under the agis of the Local
Government Board, as to almost wear the aspect of
an organised secrecy, and the coming of what is now
known as Motor-car Day was utterly unsuspected by
the bulk of the public. It even caught the newspapers
unprepared, until the week before.

But the financiers and company-promoters had been
busy. They at least fully realised the importance of
the era about to dawn ; and the extravagant flotations
of the Great Horseless Carriage Company and of many
others long since bankrupt and forgotten, together
with the phenomenal over-valuation of patents, very
soon discredited the new movement. Never has there
been a new industry so hardly used by company-
promoting sharks as that of motor-cars.

No inkling of subsequent financial disasters clouded
Motor-car Day, and as at almost the last moment the
Press had come to the conclusion that it was an occasion
to be written up and enlarged upon, a very great
public interest was aroused in the Motor-car Club's

54 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

proposed celebration of the evejit by a great procession
of the newly-enfranchised " light locomotives " from
Whitehall to Brighton, on November 14th.

The Motor-car Club is dead. It was not a club in
the proper sense of the word, but an organisation
promoted and financed by the company-promoters
who were interested in advertising their schemes.
The run to Brighton was itself intended as a huge
advertisement, but the unprepared condition of many
of the cars entered, together with the miserable
weather prevailing on that day, resulted in turning
the whole thing into ridicule.

The newspapers had done their best to ad\crtise
the event ; but no one anticipated the immense crowds
that assembled at the starting-point, Whitehall Place,
by nine o'clock on that wet and foggy morning. By
half- past ten, the hour fixed for the start, there was
a maddening chaos of hundreds of thousands of sight-
seers such as no Lord Mayor's Show or Royal Procession
had ever attracted. Everybody in the crowd wanted
a front place, and those who got one, being both unable
and unwilling to " parse away," were nearly scragged
by the police, who on the Embankment set upon
individuals like footballers on the ball ; while snap-
shotters wasted plates on them from the secure
altitudes of omnibuses or other vehicles.

Those whose journalistic duties took them to see
the start had to fight their way down from Charing
Cross, up from Westminster, or along from the
Embankment ; contesting inch by inch, and wondering
if the starting-point would ever be gained.

At length the Metropole hove in sight, but the
motor-cars had yet to be found. To accomplish this
feat it was necessary to hurl oneself into a surging
tide of humanity, and surge with it. The tide carried
the explorer away and eventually washed him ashore
on the neck of a policeman. Rumour got around
that an organised massacre of cab-horses was con-
templated, and myriads of mounted police appeared
and had their photographs taken from the tops of

" MOTOR-CAR DAY " 57

cabs and other envied ])ositions occupied by amateur
photographers, who paid dearly to take pictures of
the fog, which they could have done elsewhere for
nothing.

Time went on, the crowd grew bigger, the mud
was churned into slush, and everybody was treading
upon everyl)ody else.

" Ain't this bloomin' fun, sir ? " asked the driver
of a growler, his sides shaking with laughter, " Even
my ole 'oss 'as bin larfin'."

" Very intelligent horse," we said, thinking of
Mr. Pickwick, and determining to ask some searching
questions as to his antecedents.

" Interleck's a great p'int, sir. Which 'ud you
sooner be in : a runaway mortar-caw or a keb ? "

" Neither."

" No, I ain't jokin', strite. I've just bin argying
wif a bloke as said he'd sooner be in a caw. I said I
pitied 'is choice, and wouldn't give 'im much for his
charnce. 'Cos why ? 'Cos mortar-caws ain't got no
interleck. They cawn't tell the difrence 'tween
nothink an' a brick wall. Now a 'os can. If 'c don't
turn orf 'e tries ter jump th' wall, but yer mortar
simply goes fer it, and then where are yer ? In 'eaven,
if yer lucky, or in "

But the rest of his sentence was lost in the roar
that ascended from the crowd as the cars commenced
their journey to Brighton.

They went beautifully for a few yards, chased the
mounted police right into the crowd, and then stopped.

" It's th' standin' still as does it — not the standin'
still, I mean the not going forrard, 'cos they don't
stand still," said the cabby, excitedly.

" Don't they hum ? " he cried.

" They certainly do make a little noise."

" But I mean, don't they whiff ? "

" Whiff ? "

He held his nose.

" I say, guv'nor," shouted cabby to a fur-coated
foreigner, " wot is it smells so ? "

58 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Meanwhile there was a certain " something Hngering
with oil in it," permeating the fog, while a sound as
of many humming-tops filled the air.

Then the cars moved on a bit, amid the cheers and
chaff of a good-humoured crowd. Presently another
stoppage and more shivering.

" 'As thet cove there got th' Vituss dance ? "
inquired the elated cabby, indicating a gentleman
who was wobbling like a piece of jelly.

" That's the vibration," explained another.

" 'Ow does the vibration agree w' the old six yer
'ad last night ? " cabby inquired immediately. " I
say, Chawlie, don't it make yer sea-sick ? Oh my !
th' smell ! " and he gasped and sat on his box, looking
bilious.

When all the carriages had wended their way to
Westminster we asked cabby what he thought of the
procession.

" Arsk my 'os," said he, with a look of disgust on
his face. " What's yer opinion of it, old gal ?
Failyer ? My sentiments. British public won't pay
to be choked with stinks one moment and shut up like
electricity t' next, Failyer ? Quite c'rect."

Meanwhile the guests of the Motor-car Club were
breakfasting at the Hotel Metropole, where appropriate
speeches were made, the Earl of Winchilsea concluding
his remarks with the dramatic production of a red
flag, which, amid applause, he tore in half, to symbolise
the passing of the old restrictions.

There had been fifty-four entries for this triumphal
procession, but not more than thirty-three cars put
in an appearance. It is significant of the vast progress
made since then that no car present was more than
6 h.-p,, and that all, except the BoUee three- wheeled
car, were precisely what they were frequently styled,
" horseless carriages," vehicles built on traditional
lines, from which the horses and the customary shafts

THE FIRST CARS 59

were painfully missed. There had not yet been time
suflicient for the evolution of the typical motor-car
body.

With the combined strategy of a Napoleon, the
l>atience of Job, and the strength of Samson, the guests
were at length piloted through the crowd and inducted
into their seats, and the " procession " — which, it was
sternly ordained, was not to be a " race " — set out.

The President of the Motor-car Club, Harry J.
Lawson, since convicted of fraud and sentenced to
some months' imprisonment, led the way in his pilot-
car, bearing a purple-and-gold banner, more or less
suitably inscribed, himself habited in a strange
costume, something between that of a yachtsman and
the conductor of a Hungarian band.

Reigate was reached at 12.30 by the foremost car,
through twenty miles of crowded country, when rain
descended once more upon the hapless day, and late
arrivals splashed through in all the majesty of mud.

The honours of the occasion belong to the little
Bollee three-wheeler, of a type long since obsolete.
The inventor, disregarding all rules and times, started
at 11.30, and, making no stop at Reigate, drove on to
Brighton, which he reached in the record time of two
hours fifty-five minutes. The President's car was
fourth, in seven hours twenty-two minutes thirty
seconds.

At Preston Park, on the Brighton boundary, the
Mayor Mas to have welcomed the procession, which,
headed by the President, was to proceed triumphantly
into the town. A huge crowd assembled under the
dripping elms and weeping skies, and there, at five
o'clock, in the light of the misty lamps, stood and
vibrated that presidential equipage and its banner
with the strange device. By five o'clock only three
other cars had arri\ed ; and so, wet and miserable,
they, the Mayor and Council, and the mounted police
all splashed into Brighton amid a howling gale.

The rest should be silence, for no one ever knew
the number of cars that completed the journey. Some

00 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

said twenty-two, others thirteen ; but it is certain
that the conditions were too much for many, and that
while some reposed in wayside stables, others, broken
down in lonely places, remained on the road all through
that awful night. The guests, who in the morning
had been unable to find seats on the " horseless
carriages," and so had journeyed by special train or
by coach, in the end had much to congratulate them-
selves upon.

But, after all, looking back upon the hasty
enthusiasm that organised so long a journey at such
a time of year, at so early a stage in the motor-car
era, it seems remarkable, not that so many broke down,
but that so large a proportion reached Brighton at all.

The logical outcome of years of experiment and
preparation was reached, in the supersession of the
horsed London and Brighton Parcel Mail on June 2nd,
1905, by a motor- van, and in the establishment, on
August 30th, of the " Vanguard " London and Brighton
Motor Omnibus Service, starting in summer at 9.30
a.m., and reaching Brighton at 2 p.m. ; returning
from Brighton at 4 p.m., and finally arriving at its
starting-point, the " Hotel Victoria," Northumberland
Avenue, at 9 p.m. With the beginning of Nov'ember,
1905, that summer service was replaced by one to run
through the winter months, with inside seats only,
and at reduced fares.

The first fatality on the Brighton Road in connection
with motor-cars occurred in 1901, at Smitham Bottom,
when a car just ])urchased by a retired builder and
contractor of Brighton was being driven by him from
London. The steering-gear failed, the car turned
comijletely round, ran into an iron fence and pinned
the owner's leg against it and a tree. The leg was
broken and had to be amputated, and the unfortunate
man died of the shock.

But the motor-omnibus accident of July 12th, 1906,
was a really spectacular tragedy. On that day a
" Vanguard " omnibus, chartered by a party of thirty-
four pleasure seekers at Orpington for a day at Brighton,

THE ROAD OF RFXORDS 61

was proceeding down Hand Cross Hill at twelve miles
an hour when some essential part of the gear broke
and the heavy vehicle, dashing down-hill at an ever-
increasing pace, and swerving from side to side, struck
a great oak. The shock flung the passengers off
violently. Ten were killed and all the others injured,
mostly very seriously.

Meanwhile, amateur coaching had, in most of the
years since the professional coaches had been driven
off the road, flourished in the summer season. The
last notable amateur was the American millionaire,
Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt, who for several seasons
personally drove his own " Venture " coach between
London and Brighton ; at first on the main " classic "
road, and afterwards on the Dorking and Horsham
route. He met his death on board the Lusitania,
when it was sunk by the Germans, May 7th, 1915.

VIII

Robinson Crusoe, weary of his island solitude, sighed,
so the poet tells us, for " the midst of alarms." He
should have chosen the Brighton Road ; for ever since
it has been a road at all it has fully realised the Shakes-
pearian stage-direction of " alarums and excursions."
Particularly the " excursions," for it is the chosen
track for most record-breaking exploits ; and thus it
comes to pass that residents fortunate or imfortunate
enough to dwell upon the Brighton Road have the
whole panorama of sport unfolded before their eyes,
whether they will or no, throughout the whirling year,
and see strange sights, hear odd noises, and (since the
coming of the motor-car) smell weird smells.

The Brighton Road has ever been a course upon
which the enthusiastic exponents of different methods
of progression have eagerly exhibited their prowess.
But to-day, although it affords as good going as, or
better than, ever, it is not so suitable as it was for these

62 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

displays of speed. TralBe has growiv with the growth
of villages and townships along these fifty-two miles,
and sport and public convenience are on the highway
antipathetic. Yet every kind of sport has its will of
the road.

The reasons of this exceptional sporting character
are not far to seek. They were chiefly sportsmen who
travelled it in the days when it began to be a road :
those full-blooded sportsmen, ready for any freakish
wager, who were the boon companions of the Prince ;
and they set a fashion which has not merely survived
into modern times, but has grown amazingly.

But it would never have been the road for sport it
is, had its length not been so conveniently and alluringly
near an even fifty miles. So much may be done or
attempted along a fifty miles' course that would be
impossible on a hundred.

The very first sporting event on the Brighton Road
of which any record survives is (with an astonishing
fitness) the feat accomplished by the Prince of Wales
himself on July 25th, 1784, during his second visit to
Brighthelmstone. On that day he mounted his horse
there and rode to London and back. He went by way
of Cuckfield, and was ten hours on the road : four and
a half hours going, five and a half hours returning.
On August 21st of the same year, starting at one
o'clock in the morning, he drove from Carlton House
to the " Pavilion " in four hours and a half. The
turn-out was a phaeton drawn by three horses harnessed
tandem-fashion — what in those days was called a
" random."

One may venture the opinion that, although these
performances were in due course surpassed, they were
not altogether bad for a " simulacrum," as Thackeray
was pleased to style him.

Twenty-five years passed before any one arose to
challenge the Prince's ride, and then only partially
and indirectlv. In May, 1809. Cornet J. Wedderburn
Webster, of the 10th (Prince of Wales's Own) Light
Dragoons, accepted and won a wager of 300 to 200

SPORTING EVENTS 68

guineas with Sir IJ. (irahaiii about the jjerformance in
three and a half hours of the journey from Brighton
to Westminster Bridge, mounted upon one of the blood
horses that usually ran in his phaeton. He accom-
plished the ride in three hours twenty minutes, knocking
the Prince's up record into the proverbial cocked hat.
The rider stopped a while at Reigate to take a glass or
two of wine, and compelled his horse to swallow the
remainder of the bottle.

This spirited affair was preceded in April, 1793, by
a curious match which seems to deserve mention.
A clergyman at Brighton betted an officer of the
Artillery quartered there 100 guineas that he would
ride his own horse to London sooner than the officer
could go in a chaise and pair, the officer's horses to
be changed en route as often as he might think proper.
The Artilleryman accordingly despatched a servant to
])rovide relays, and at twelve o'clock on an unfavourable
night the parties set out to decide the bet, which was
won by the clergyman with difficulty. He arrived in
town at 5 a.m., only a few minutes before the chaise,
which it had been thought was sure of winning. The
driver of the last stage, however, nearly became stuck
in a ditch, which mishap caused considerable delay.
The Cuckfield driver performed his nine-miles' stage,
between that place and Crawley, within the half- hour.

The next outstanding incident was the run of the
" Red Rover " coach, which, leaving the " Elephant
and Castle " at 4 p.m. on June 19th, 1831, reached
Brighton at 8.21 that evening : time, four hours twenty-
one minutes. The fleeting era of those precursors of
motor-cars, the steam-carriages, had by this time
arrived, and after two or three had managed, at some
kind of a slow pace, to get to and from Brighton, the
" Autopsy " achieved a record of sorts in October,
1833. " Autopsy " was an unfortunate name, sugges-
tive of post-mortem examinations and " crowner's
quests," but it proved not more dangerous than the
" Mors " or " Hurtu " cars of to-day. The " Autopsy "
was Walter Hancock's steam-carriage, and ran from

64 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

his works at Stratford. It reached Brighton in eight
hours thirty minutes ; from which, however, must be
deducted three hours for a halt on the road.

In the following year, February 4th, the " Criterion "
coach, driven by Charles Harbour, took the King's
Speech down to Brighton in three hours forty minutes —
a coach record that not only quite eclipsed that of the
" Red Rover," but has never yet been equalled, not
even by Selby, on his great drive of July 13th, 1888 ;
his times being, out and home respectively, three
hours fifty-six minutes and three hours fifty-four
minutes.

In March, 1868, the first of the walking records was
established, the sporting papers of that age chronicling
what they very rightly described as a " Great Walking
Feat " : a walk, not merely to Brighton, but to
Brighton and back. This heroic undertaking, which
was not repeated until 1902, was performed by one
" Mr. Benjamin B. Trench, late Oxford University."
On March 20th, for a heavy wager, he started to walk
the hundred miles from Kennington Church to Brighton
and back in twenty-five hours. Setting out on the
Friday, at 6 p.m., he was back at Kennington Church
at 5 p.m. Saturday, having thus won his wager with
two hours to spare. It will be observed, or guessed,
from the absence of odd minutes and seconds that in
1868, timing, as an exact science, had not been born ;
but it is evident that this stalwart walked his hundred
miles on ordinary roads at an average rate of a little
over four and a quarter miles an hour. " He then,"
concludes the report, " walked round the Oval several
times, till seven o'clock."

To each age the inventions it deserv'cs. Cycling
would have been impossible in the mid-eighteenth
century, when Walpole and Burton travelled with
such difficulty.

When roads began to deserve the name, the Mail
Coach was introduced ; and when they grew hard
and smooth, out of their former condition of ruts
and mud, the quaint beginnings of the bicycle are

THE HOBBY-HORSE 65

noticed. The Hobby Horse and McAdam, the man
who first preached the modern gospel of good roads,
were contemporary.

I have said the beginnings of the bicycle were
quaint, and I think no one will be concerned to dispute
this alleged quaintness of the Hobby Horse, which
had a certain strictly limited popularity from 1819 to
1830. I do not think any one ever rode from London
to Brighton on one of these machines ; and, when
you come to consider the build and the limitations of
them, and then think of the hills on the way, it is
quite impossible that any one should so ride. It was
perhaps within the limits of human endurance to ride
a Hobby Horse along the levels, to walk it up the
rises, and then to madly descend the hills, and so
reach Brighton, very sore ; but records do not tell us
of such a stern pioneer. The Hobby Horse, it should
be said, was an affair of two wooden wheels with
iron tyres. A heavy timber frame connected these
wheels, and on it the courageous rider straddled,
his feet touching the ground. The Hobby Horse
had no pedals, and the rider propelled his hundredweight
or so of iron and timber by running in this straddUng
position and thus obtaining a momentum which only
on the down grade would carry him any distance.

Thus, although the Hobby Horse was a favourite
with the " bucks " of George the Fourth's time, they
exercised upon it in strictly limited doses, and it was
not until it had experienced a new birth and was born
again as the " velocipede " of the '60's, that to ride
fifty miles upon an ancestor of the present safety
bicycle, and survive, was possible.*

The front-driving velocipede— the well-known
" boneshaker " — was invented by one Pierre Lallement,
in Paris, in 1865-6, and exhibited at the Paris
Exhibition of 1867. It was to the modern pneumatic-
tyred " safety " what the roads of 1865 are to those

• Kirkpatrick Macmillan, in 1839-40, invented a dwarf, rear-
driving mactilne of the " safety " type, and was fined at Glasgow
for " furiously riding." He made and sold several, but they attained
notliing more than local and temporary success.

66 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

of 1906. It also, like the Hobby Horse, had iron-shod
wooden wheels, but had cranks and pedals, and could
be ridden uphill. On such a machine the first cycle
ride to Brighton was performed in 1869. This pioneer's
fame on the Brighton Road belongs to John Mayall,
junior, a well-known photographer of that period, who
died in the summer of 1891.

This marks the beginning of so important an epoch
that the circumstances attending it are worthy a detailed
account. They were felt, so long ago as 1874, to be
deserving of such a record, for in the first number of an
athletic magazine, Ixion, published in that year, "J. M.,
jun.," who, of course, was none other than Mayall him-
self, began to tell the wondrous tale. He set out to
narrate it at such length that, as an editorial note tells
us, the concluding portion was reserved for the second
number. But Ixion never reached a second number,
and so Mayall's own account of his historic ride was
never completed.

He began, as all good chroniclers should, at the
very beginning, telling how, in the early part of 1869,
he was at Spencer's Gymnasium in Old Street, St.
Luke's. There he saw a packing-case being followed
by a Mr. Turner, whom he had seen at the Paris
Exhibition of 1868, and witnessed the unpacking of it.
From it came a something new and strange, " a piece
of apparatus consisting mainly of two wheels, similar
to one I had seen, not long before, in Paris." It was
the first velocipede to reach England.

It is a curious point that, although Mayall rode a
" velocipede," and although these machines were
generally so-called for a year or two after their introduc-
tion, the word " bicycle " is claimed to have been
first used in the Times in the early part of 1868 ; and
certainly we find in the Daily News of September 7th
in that year an allusion, in grotesque spelling, to
" bysicles and trisicles which we saw at the Champs
Elysees and the Bois de Boulogne this summer."

But to return to the " velocipede " which had
found its way to England at the beginning of 1869.

THE BONESHAKER 67

The two-wheeled mystery was helped out of its
wrappings and shavings, the Gymnasium was cleared,
and Mr. Turner, taking off his coat, grasped the handles
of the machine, and with a short run, to Mayall's
intense surprise, vaulted on to it. Putting his feet on
what were then called the " treadles," Turner, to the
astonishment of the beholders, made the circuit of the
room, sitting on this bar above a pair of wheels in line
that ought to have collapsed so soon as the momentum
ceased ; but, instead of falling down. Turner turned
the front wheel at an angle to the other, and thus
maintained at once a halt and a balance.

Mayall was fired with enthusiasm. The next day
(Saturday) he was early at the Gymnasium, " intending
to have a day of it," and I think, from his account of
what followed, that he did, in every sense, have such
a day.

As Spencer had hurt himself by falling from the
machine the night before, Mayall had it almost wholly
to himself, and, after a few successful journeys round
the room, determined to try his luck in the streets.
Accordingly, at one o'clock in the afternoon, amid the
plaudits of a hundred men of the adjacent factory,
engaged in the congenial occupation of lounging
against the blank walls in their dinner-hour, the
velocipede was hoisted on to a cab and driven to
Portland Place, where it was put on the pavement,
and Mayall prepared to mount. Even nowadays the
cycling novice requires plenty of room, and as Portland
Place is well known to be the widest street in London,
and nearly the most secluded, it seems probable that
this intrepid pioneer deliberately chose it in order to
have due scope for his evolutions.

It was a raw and muddy day, with a high wind.
Mayall sprang on to the velocipede, but it slipped on
the wet road, and he measured his length in the mud.
The day-out was beginning famously.

Spencer, who had been worsted the night before,
contented himself with giving Mayall a start when he
made another attempt, and this time that courageous

68 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

person got as far as the Marylcbone Road, and across
it on to the pavement of the other side, where he fell
with a crash as though a barrow had been upset. But
again vaulting into the saddle, he lumbered on into
Regent's Park, and so to the drinking-fountain near
the Zoological Gardens, where, in attempting to turn
round, he fell over again. Mounting once more, he
returned. Looking round, " there was the park-
keeper coming hastily towards me, making indignant
signs. I passed quickly out of the Park gate into the
roadway." Thus early began the long warfare between
Cycling and Authority.

Thence, sometimes falling into the road, with
Spencer trotting after him, he reached the foot of
Primrose Hill, and then, at Spencer's home, staggered
on to a sofa, and lay there, exhausted, soaked in rain
and perspiration, and covered with mud. It had been
in no sense a light matter to exercise with that ninety-
three pounds' weight of mingled timber and iron-
mongery.

On the Monday he trundled about, up to the
" Angel," Islington, where curious crowds assembled,
asking the uses of the machine and if the falling off
and grovelling in the mud was a part of the pastime.
The following day, very sore, but still undaunted, he
re-visited the " Angel," went through the City, and so
to Brixton and Clapham, where, at the house of a
friend, he looked over maps, and first conceived the
" stupendous " idea of riding to Brighton.

The following morning he endeavoured to put that
plan into execution, and toiled up Brixton Hill, and so
through Croydon, up the " never-ending " rise, as it
seemed, of Smitham Bottom to the crest of Merstham
Hill. There, tired, he half plunged into the saddle,
and so thundered and clattered down hill into
Merstham. At Redhill, seventeen and a half miles,
utterly exhausted, he relinquished the attempt, and
retired to the railway station, where he lay for some
time on one of the seats until he revived. Then, to
the intense admiration and amusement of the station-

JOHN MAYALL, JUNIOR 69

master and his staff, he rode about the phitfonn,
dodging the pillars, and narrowly escaping a fall on
to the rails, until the London train came in.

On Wednesday, February 17th, Mayall, Rowley B.
Turner, and Charles Spencer, all three on velocipedes,
started from Trafalgar Square for Brighton. The
party kept together until Redhill was reached, when
Mayall took the lead, and eventually reached Brighton
alone. The time occupied was " about " twelve
hours. Being a photographer, Mayall of course
caused himself to be photographed standing beside
the instrument of torture on which he made that
weary ride, and thus we have preserved to us the
weird spectacle he presented : more like that of a
Russian convict than an athletic young Englishman.
A peaked cap, an attenuated frock-coat, very tight
in the waist, and stiff and shiny leather leggings,
completed a costume strange enough to make a modern
cyclist shudder. Fearful whiskers and oily-looking
long hair add to the strangeness of this historic
figure.

With this exploit athletic competition began, and
the long series of modern " records " on the Brighton
Road were set a-going, for during the March of that
year two once well-known amateur pedestrian members
of the Stock Exchange, W. M. and H. J. Chinnery,
walked down to Brighten in 11 hrs. 25 mins., and on
April 14th C. A. Booth bettered Mayall's adventure,
riding down on a velocipede in 9 hrs. 30 mins.

Then came the Amateur Bicycle Club's race,
September 19th, 1872. By that time not only had
the word " velocipede " been discarded for " bicycle,"
and " treadles " become " pedals," but the machine
itself, although in general appearance very much the
same, had been improved in detail. The 36-inch
front wheel had been increased to 44 inches, the
wooden spokes had given place to wire, and strips
of rubber, nailed on, replaced the iron tyres. Probably
as a result of these refinements the winner, A Temple,
reached Brighton in 5 hrs. 25 mins.

70 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

By 1872 the bicycle had advanced a further stage
towards the giraffe-hke altitude of the " ordinary,"
and already there were many clubs in existence. On

JOHN.MAYALL. JUNIOR, 1869.

From a contemrorary photograph.

August 16th of that year six members of the Surrey
and six of the Middlesex Bicycle Clubs rode from
Kennington Oval to Brighton and back, Causton

RECORDS 71

captain of the Surrey, being the first into Brighton.
Riding a 50-inch " Keen " bicycle he reeled off the
fifty miles in 4 hrs. 51 mins. The new machine
was something to be reckoned with.

On February 9th, 1874, a certain John Revel, junr.,
backed himself in heavy sums to ride a bicycle the
whole distance from Brighton to London quicker than
a Mr. Gregory could walk the 22| miles from Reigate
to London. Revel was to leave Brighton at the
junction of the London and Montpellier roads at the
same time as Gregory started from a point between
the twenty-second and twenty-third milestones. The
pedestrian won, finishing in 3 hrs. 27 mins. 47 sees.,
Revel taking 5 hrs. 57 mins. for the whole journey.

The bicycle had by this time firmly established
itself. It grew more and more of an athletic exercise
to mount the steadily growing machines, but once
seated on them the going was easier. April 27th, 1874,
found Alfred Howard cycling from Brighton to
London in 4 hrs. 25 mins., a speed which works out
at eleven miles an hour.

In 1875 the Brighton Road seems to have been left
severely alone, and 1876 was signalised only by two
of the fantastic wagers that have been numerously
decided on this half-century of miles. In that year,
we are told, a Mr. Frederick Thompson staked one
thousand guineas that Sir John Lynton would not
wheel a barrow from Westminster Abbey to the " Old
Ship " at Brighton in fifteen hours ; and the knight,
accepting the bet, made his appearance airily clothed
in the " shorts " of the recognised running costume
and wheeling a barrow made of bamboo, and provided
with handles six feet long. He won easily, but
whether the loser paid the thousand guineas, or lodged
a protest with referees, does not appear. He should
have specified the make of barrow, for the kinds range
through quite a number of varieties, from the coster's
barrow to the navvy's and the gardener's. But the
wager did not contemplate the fancy article with
which Sir John Lynton made his journey. At any

72 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

rate, I have my doubts about the genuineness of the
whole affair, for, seeking this "Sir John Lynton " in
the usual books of reference of that period, there is no
such knight or baronet to be discovered.

According to the Sussex newspapers of 1876, over
fifteen thousand peojile assembled in the King's Road
at Brighton to witness the finish of the sporting event
between Major Penton and an unnamed competitor.
Major Penton agreed to give his opponent a start of
twenty-seven miles in a pedestrian match to Brighton,
on the condition that he was allowed a " go-as-j'^ou-
please " method, while the other man was to walk in
the fair " heel-and-toe " style. The major won by a
yard and a half in the King's Road, through the
excitement of his competitor, who was disqualified at
the last minute by breaking into a trot.

Freakish sport was at this time decidedly in the
ascendant, for the sole event of 1877 was the extra-
ordinary escapade of two persons who on September
11th undertook to ride, dressed as clowns, on donkeys,
from London to Croydon, seated backwards with their
faces towards the animals' tails. From Croydon to
Redhill they were to walk the three-legged walk — i.e.,
tied together by right and left legs — and thence to
Crawley (surely a most appropriate place) on hands
and knees. From that place to the end their pilgrimage
was to be made walking in boots each weighted with
15 lb. of lead. This last ordeal speedily finished
them, for they had failed to accomplish more than
half a mile when they broke down.

John Granby was another of these fantastic persons,
whose proper place would be a lunatic ward. He
essayed to walk to Brighton with 50 lb. weight of
sand round his shoulders, in a bag, but he sank under
the weight by the time of his arrival at Thornton
Heath.

In 1878 P. J. Burt bettered the performance of the
Chinnerys, ten years earlier, by thirty-three minutes,
walking to the Aquarium in 10 hrs. 52 mins. Most
authorities agree in making his starting-point the

MORE RECORDS 78

Clock Tower on the north side of Wcstmhister Bridge,
52j miles, and thus we ean figure out his speed at about
five miles an hour. All the athletic world wondered,
and when, in 1884, C. L. O'Malley (pedestrian, swimmer,
steeplechaser, and boxer), walking against B. Nickels,
junr., lowered that record by so much as 1 hr. 4 mins.,
every one thought finality in long-distance padding
the hoof had been reached.

Meanwhile, however, 1882 had witnessed another
odd adventure on the way to Brightoii. A London
clubman declared, while at dinner with a friend, that
the bare-footed tramps sometimes to be seen in the
country were not to be pitied. Boots, he said, were
after all conventions, and declared it an easy matter
to walk, say, fifty miles without them. He challenged
his friend, and a walk to Brighton was arranged. The
friend retired on his blisters in twelve miles : the
challenger, however, with the soles of his stockings
long since worn away, plodded on until he fainted with
pain when only four miles from Brighton.

On April 6th, 1886, J. A. M'Intosh, of the London
Athletic Club, walked to Brighton in 9 hrs. 25 mins.
8 sees., improving upon O'Malley's best by 22 mins.
52 sees.

The year 1888 was notable. On January 1st the
horse " Ginger," in a match against time, was driven
at a trot to Brighton in 4 hrs. 16 mins. 30 sees., and
another horse, " The Bird," trotted from Kennington
Cross to Brighton in 4 hrs. 30 mins. On July 13th
Selby drove the " Old Times " coach from the
White Horse Cellar, in Piccadilly, to Brighton and
back in ten minutes under eight hours, thus
arousing that competition of cyclists which, first
directed towards beating his performance, has been
continued to the present day.

74 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

IX

Selby's drive was very widely chronicled. The
elaborate reports and extensive preliminary arrange-
ments compare oddly with the early sporting events
undertaken on the spur of the moment and recorded
only in meagre, unilluminating paragraphs. What
would we not give for a report of the Prince of Wales's
ride in 1784, so elaborated.

A great drive, and a great coachman, worthily
carrying on the good old traditions of the road. It
has, however, been already pointed out that neither
on his outward journey (3 hrs. 56 mins.), nor on the
return (3 hrs. 54 mins.), did he quite equal the record
of the " Criterion " coach, which on February 4th,
1834, took the King's Speech from London to Brighton
in 3 hrs. 40 mins.

Selby did not live long to enjoy the world-wide
repute his great drive gained him. He died, only
forty-four years of age, at the end of the same year
that saw this splendid feat.

Selby's memorable drive put cyclists upon their
mettle, but not at once was any determined attempt
made to better it. The dwarf rear-driving " safety "
bicycle, the " Rover," which, introduced in 1885, set
the existing pattern, was not yet perfected, and cyclists
still rode solid or cushion tyres, instead of the now
universal pneumatic kind.

It was, therefore, not until August, 1889, that after
several unsuccessful attempts had been made to better
the coach-time on that double journey of 108 miles, a
team of four cyclists — E. J. WilHs, G. L. Morris, C. W.
Schafer, and S. Walker, members of the Polytechnic
Cycling Club — did that distance in 7 hrs. 36 mins. 19f
sees. ; or 13 mins. 40| sees, less ; and even then the feat
was accomplished only by the four cyclists dividing the
journey between them into four relays. Two other
teams, on as many separate occasions, reduced the
figures by a few minutes, and M. A. Holbein and
P. C, Wilson singly made unsuccessful attempts.

It was left to F. W. Shorland, a verj' young rider,

It

THE CYCLISTS 75

to be the first of a series of single-handed breakers of
the coaching time. He accomplished the feat in
June, 1890, upon a pneumatic-tyred " Geared Facile "
safety, and reduced the time to 7 hrs. 19 mins., being
himself beaten on July 23rd by S. F. Edge, riding
a cushion-tyred safety. Edge put the time at 7 hrs,
2 mins. 50 sees., and, in addition, first beat Selby's
outward journey, the times being — coach, 3 hrs.
6 mins. ; cycle, 3 hrs. 18 mins. 25 sees. Then came
et another stalwart, C. A. Smith, who on September
3rd of the same year beat Edge by 10 mins. 40 sees.
Even a tricyclist — E. P. Moorhouse — essayed the
feat on September 30th, but failed, his time being
8 hrs. 9 mins. 24 sees.

To the adventitious aid of pacemakers, fresh and
fresh again, to stir the record-breaker's flagging
energies, much of this success was at first due ; but
at the present day those times have been exceeded on
many unpaced rides.

Selby's drive had the effect of creating a new and
arbitrary point of departure for record-making, and
" Hatchett's " has thus somewhat confused the issues
with the times and distances associated with West-
minster Bridge.

The year 1891 was a blank, so far as cycling was
concerned, but on March 20th an early Stock Exchange
pedestrian to walk to Brighton set out to cover the
distance between Hatchett's and the " Old Ship " in
11 hrs. 15 mins. This was E. H. Cuthbertson, who
backed himself to equal the Chinnerys' performance of
1869. Out of this undertaking arose the additional
and subsidiary match between Cuthbertson and
another Stock Exchange member, H. K. Paxton, as to
which should quickest walk between Hatchett's and
the " Greyhound," Croydon. Paxton, a figure of
Brobdingnagian proportions, 6 ft. 4 in. in height, and
scaling 17 stone, received a time allowance of 23
minutes. Both aspirants went into three weeks'
severe training, and elaborate arrangements were
made for attendance, timing, and refreshment on the

76 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

road. Paxton, urged to renewed efforts in the ultimate
yards by the strains of a more or less German band,
which seeing the eompetitors approach, played "See the
Conquering Hero Comes,"* won the match to Croydon
by 1 min. 18 sees., but did not stop here, continuing
with Cuthbertson to Brighton. Although Cuthbertson
won his wager, and walked down in 10 hrs. 6 mins. 18
sees. (9 hrs. 55 mins, 34 sees, from Westminster) and
won several heavy sums by this performance, he did
not equal that of Mcintosh in 1886. The old-timer,
deducting a j^roportionate time for the difference
between the finishing-points, the Aquarium and the
" Old Ship," was still half an hour to the good.

The next four years were exclusively cyclists' years.
On June 1st. 1892. S. F. Edge made a great effort to
regain the record that had been wrested from him by
C. A. Smith in 1890, and did indeed win it back, but
only by the fractional margin of 1 min. 3 sees., and
only held that advantage for three months, Edward
Dance, in the last of three separate attempts, succeeding
on September 6th in lowering Edge's time, but only
by 2 mins. 6 sees. Then three days later, R. C.
Nesbit made a " record " for the high " ordinary "
bicycle, of 7 hrs. 42 mins. 50 sees., the last appearance
of the now extraordinary " ordinary " on this stage.

The course was from 1893 considerably varied, the
Road Record Association being of opinion that as the
original great object — the breaking of the coach time —
had been long since attained, there was no need to
maintain the Piccadilly end, or the Cuckfield route.
The course selected, therefore, became from Hyde
Park Corner to the Aquarium at Brighton, by way of
Hickstead and Bolney. On September 12th of this
year Edge tried for and again recaptured this keenly-
contested prize, this time by the respectable margin
of 35 mins. 13 sees., only to have it snatched away on
September 17th by A. E. Knight, who knocked off
3 mins. 19 sees. Again, in another couple of days, the

• " There's nothing brings you round

Like the trumpet's martial sotmd." — W. S. Gilbert.

" The Pirates of Penzance."

THE CYCLISTS 77

figures were revised, C. A. Smith, on one of the few
occasions on which he deserted the tricycle for the
two-wheeler, accomplishing the double journey in 6 hrs.
6 mins. 46 sees. On the 22nd of the same busy month
Edge for the fourth and last time took the record,
on this occasion by the margin of 14 mins. 16 sees.
The road then knew him no more as a record-breaking
cyclist, and his achievement lasted — ^not days, but
hours, for on the same day Dance lowered it by the
infmitesimal fraction of 12 seconds. On October 4th
W. W. Robertson set up a tricycle record of 7 hrs.
24 mins. 2 sees, for the double journey, and then a
crowded year ended.

The much-worried records of the Brighton Road
came in for another turn in 1894, W. R. Toft, on
June 11th, reducing the tricycle time, and C. G,
Wridgway on September 12th lowering that for the
bicycle. This year was also remarkable for the
appearance of women speed cyclists, setting up records
of their own, Mrs. Noble cycling to Brighton and back
in 8 hrs. 9 mins., followed on September 20th by Miss
Reynolds in 7 hrs. 48 mins. 46 sees., and on September
22nd by Miss White in 42 mins. shorter time.

The season of 1895 was not very eventful, with
the ride by A. A. Chase in 5 hrs. 34 mins. 58 sees. ;
.-34 sees, better than the previous best, and the lowering
by J. Parsley of the tricycle record by over an hour ;
but it was notable for an almost incredible eccentricity,
that of cycling backwards to Brighton. This feat
was accomplished by J. H. Herbert in November, as
an advertising sensation on behalf of the inventor of
a new machine, exhibited at the Stanley Show. He
rode facing the hind wheel and standing on the pedals.
Punctures, mud, rain, and wind delayed him, but he
reached Brighton in 7 hrs. 45 mins.

On June 26th, 1896, E. D. Smith and C. A. Green-
wood established a tandem-cycle record of 5 hrs.
37 mins. 34 sees., demolished September 15th ; while
on July 15th C. G. Wridgway regained his lost single
record, beating Chase's figures by 12 mins. 25 sees.

78 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

In this year W. Franks, a professional pedestrian in
his forty-fifth year, beat all earlier walks to Brighton,
eclipsing Mcintosh's walk of 1886 by 18 mins. 18 sees.
But, far above all other considerations, 1896 was
notable for the legalising of motor-cars. On Motor-
Day, November 14th, a great number of automobiles
were to go in procession — not a race — from West-
minster to Brighton. Most of them broke down,
but a 6 h.-p. Bollee car (a three-wheeled variety now
obsolete) made a record journey in 2 hrs. 55 mins.

The year 1897 opened on April 10th with the open
London to Brighton walk of the Polytechnic Harriers.
The start was made from Regent Street, but time was
taken separately, from that point and from Westminster
Clock Tower. There were thirty-seven starters. E.
Knott, of the Hairdressers' A.C. — a quaint touch —
finished in 8 hrs. 56 mins. 44 sees. Thirty-one of the
competitors finished well within twelve hours.

On May 4th W. J. Neason, cycling to Brighton and
back, made the distance in 5 hrs. 19 mins. 39 sees.,
and on July 12th Miss M. Foster beat Miss White's
1894 record by 20 mins. 37 sees., while on the following
day Richard Palmer made a better run than Neason's
by 9 mins. 45 sees. Neason, however, got his own
again in the following September, by 3 mins. 3 sees.,
and on October 27th P. Wheelock and G. J. Fulford
improved the tandem record of 1896 by 25 mins.
41 sees.

By this time the thoroughly artificial character of
most of these later cycling records had become
glaringly apparent. It was not only seen in the fact
that their heavy cost was largely borne by cycle and
tyre-makers, who found advertisement in them, but
it was obvious also in the arbitrary selection of the
starting-points, by which a record run to Brighton
and back might be begun at Purley, run to Brighton,
then back to Purley, and thence to London and back
again, with any variation that might suit the day and
the rider. It was evident, too, that the growing
elaboration of pace-making, first by relays of riders

THE CYCLISTS 79

and latterly by motors, had reduced the thing to an
absurdity in which there was no credit and — worse still
— no advertisement. Then, therefore, a new order of
things was set agoing, and the era of unpaced records
was begun.

On September 27th, 1898, E. J. Steel established a
London to Brighton and back unpaced cycling record
of 6 hrs. 23 mins. 55 sees. ; and on the same day the
new unpaced tricycle record of 8 hrs. 11 mins. 10 sees,
for the double journey was set up by P. F. A. Gomme.

The South London Harriers' open " go-as-you-
please " walking or running match of May 6th, 1899,
attracted the attention of the athletic world in a very
marked degree. Cyclists, in especial, were in evidence,
to make the pace, to judge, to sponge down the com-
petitors or to refresh them by the wayside. The start
was made from Big Ben soon after seven o'clock in the
morning, when fourteen aspirants, all clad in the
regulation running costumes and sweaters, went forth
to win the modern equivalent of the victor's laurelled
crown in the ancient Olympian games. F. D. Randall,
who won, got away from his most dangerous opponent
on the approach to Redhill, and, increasing that
advantage to a hundred yards' lead when in the midst
of the town, was not afterwards seriously challenged.
He finished in the splendid time of 6 hrs. 58 mins. 18
sees. Saward, the second, completed it in 7 hrs.
17 mins. 50 sees., and the veteran E. Ion Pool in
another 4 mins.

As if to show the superiority of the cycle over mere
pedestrian efforts, H. Green on June 30th cycled from
London to Brighton and back, unpaced, in 5 hrs.
50 mins. 23 sees., and on August 12th, 1902, reduced
his own record by 20 mins. 1 sec. Meanwhile, Harry
Vowles, a blind musician of Brighton, who had for
some years made an annual walk from Brighton to
London, on October 15th, 1900, accompUshed his
ambition to walk the distance in one day. He left
Brighton at 5 a.m. and reached the Alhambra, in
Leicester Square, at ten o'clock that night.

80 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

On October 31st, 1902, the Surrey Walking Clut)'s
104 miles contest to Brighton and back resulted in
J. Butler winning : time, 21 hrs. 36 mins. 27 sees.,
Butler performing the single journey on March 14th
the following year in 8 hrs. 43 mins. 16 sees. For
fair heel-and-toe walking, that was considered at the
time the ultimate achievement ; but it was beaten on
April 9th, 1904, in the inter-club walk of the Black-
heath and Ranelagh Harriers, when T. E. Hammond
established the existing record of 8 hrs. 26 mins.
57| sees. — the astonishing speed of six miles an
hour.

This event was preceded by the famous Stock
Exchange Walk of May Day, 1903. Every one knows
the Stock Exchange to be almost as great on sport as
it is in finance, but no one was prepared for the magni-
tude finally assumed by the match idly suggested on
March 16th, during a dull hour on the Kaffir Market.
Business had long been in a bad way, not in that
market alone, but in the House in general. The trail
of the great Boer War and its heritage of debt, taxation,
and want of confidence lay over all departments, and
brokers, jobbers, principals, and clerks alike were so
heartily tired of going to " business " day after day
when there was no business — and when there calcu-
lating how much longer they could afford annual
subscriptions and office rent — that any relief was
eagerly accepted. In three days twenty-five com-
petitors had entered for the proposed walk to Brighton,
and the House found itself not so poverty-stricken
but that prize-money to the extent of £35, for three
silver cups, was subscribed. And then the Press —
that Press which is growing daily more hysterical and
irresponsible — got hold of it and boomed it, and
there was no escaping the Stock Exchange Walk. By
the morning of March 25th, when the list was closed,
there were 107 competitors entered and the prize-list
had grown to the imposing total of three gold medals,
valued, one at £10 10*. and two at £5 5.?., with two
silver cups valued at £10 10.?., two at £5 5*., and silver

STOCK-EXCHANGE WALKS 81

commemoration medals for all arriving at Brighton
in thirteen hours.

Long before May Day the Press had worked the
thing up to the semblance of a matter of Imperial
importance, and London talked of little else. April
13th had been at first spoken of for the event, but
many of the competitors wanted to get into training,
and in the end May Day, being an annual Stock
Exchange holiday, was selected.

There were ninety-nine starters from the Clock
Tower at 6.30 on that chill May morning : not middle-
aged stockbrokers, but chiefly young stockbrokers'
clerks. All the papers had published particulars of
the race, together with final weather prognostications ;
hawkers sold official programmes ; an immense crowd
assembled ; a host of amateur photographers descended
upon the scene, and the police kept Westminster Bridge
clear. Although by no means to be compared with
Motor-car Day, the occasion was well honoured.

Advertisers had, as usual, seized the opportunity,
and almost overwhelmed the start ; and among the
motor-cars and the cyclists who followed the com-
petitors down the road the merits of Somebody's
Whisky, and the pills, boots, bicycles, beef-tea, and
flannels of some other bodies impudently obtruded.

" What went ye out for to see ? " The pubhc
undoubtedly expected to see a number of pursy,
jilethoric City men, attired in frock-coats and silk-
hats, walking to Brighton. What they did see was a
crowd of apparently professional pedestrians, lightly
clad in the flannels and " shorts " of athletics, trailing
down the road, with here and there an " unattached "
walker, such as Mr. Pringle, who, fulfiUing the
conditions of a wager, walked down in immaculate
silk hat, black coat, and spats — " immaculate," that
is to say, at the start : as a chronicler adds, " things
were rather different later." They were ; for thirteen
hours' (more or less) rain and mud can work vast
changes. The day was, in fact, as unpleasant as well
could be imagined, and it is said much for the sporting
F

82 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

enthusiasm of the countryside that the whole length
of the road to Brighton was so crowded with spectators
that it resembled a thronged City thoroughfare.

It said still more for the pluck and endurance of
those who undertook the walk that of the ninety-nine
starters no fewer than seventy-eight finished within
the thirteen hours' limit qualifying them for the
commemorative medal. G. D. Nicholas, the favourite,
heavily backed by sportsmen, led from the beginning,
making the pace at the rate of six miles an hour. He
reached Streatham, six miles, in 59 mins.

And then a craze for walking to Brighton set in.
On June 6th the butchers of Smithfield Market walked,
and doubtless, among the many other class-races, the
bakers, and the candlestick-makers as well, and the
proprietors of baked-potato cans and the roadmen,
and indeed the Lord alone knows who not. Of the
sixty butchers, who had a much more favourable day
than the stockbrokers, the winner, H. F. Otway,
covered the distance in 9 hrs. 21 mins. 1* sees., thus
beating Broad by some 9 minutes.

Whether the dairymen of London ever executed
their proposed daring feat of walking to Brighton,
each trundling an empty churn, does not appear ;
but it seems likely that many a fantastic person walked
down carrying an empty head. A German, one
Anton Hauslian, even set out on the journey pushing
a j)erambulator containing his wife and six-year-old
daughter ; and on June 16th an American, a Miss
Florence, an eighteen-year-old music-hall equilibrist,
started to " walk " the distance on a globe. She used
for the purpose two globes, each made of wood covered
with sheepskin, and having a diameter of 26 in. ; one
weighing 20 lb., for uphill work ; the other weighing
75 lb., for levels and descents. Starting at an early
hour on June 16th, and " walking " ten hours a day,
she reached the Aquarium at the unearthly hour of
2.40 on the morning of the 21st.

Those who could not rehearse the epic flights of
these fifty-two miles walked shorter distances ; and,

MORE PEDESTRIANISM 85

while the craze lasted, not only did the " midinettes "
of Paris take the walking mania severely, but the
waitresses of various London teashops performed ten-
mile wonders.

On June 20th the gigantic " go-as-you-please "
walking or running match to Brighton organised
by the Evening News took place, in that dismal weather
so generally associated, whatever the season of the
year, with sport on the Brighton Road. Two hundred
and thirty-eight competitors had entered, but only
ninety actually faced the starter at 5 o'clock a.m.
They were a very miscellaneous concourse of
professional and amateur " peds " ; some with training
and others with no discoverable athletic qualifications
at all ; some mere boys, many middle-aged, one in his
fifty-second year, and even one octogenarian of eighty-
five. Among them was a negro, F. W. Craig, known
to the music-halls by the poetic name of the " Coffee
Cooler " ; and labouring men, ostlers, and mechanics
of every type were of the number. It was as complete
a contrast from the Stock Exchange band as could
be well imagined.

The wide difference in age, and the fitness and
unfitness of the many competitors, resulted in the race
being won by the foremost while the rearmost were
struggling fifteen miles behind. The intrepid
octogenarian was still wearily plodding on, twenty
miles from Brighton, six hours after the winner, Len
Hurst, had reached the Aquarium in the record time —
26 mins. 18 sees, better than Randall's best of May 6th,
1899 — of 6 hrs. 32 mins. Some amazing figures were
set up by the more youthful and incautious, who
reached Croydon, 9J miles, in 54 mins., but were
eventually worn down by those who were wise enough
to save themselves for the later stages.

In the following August Miss M. Foster repeated
her ride of July 12th, 1897, and cycled to Brighton
and back, on this occasion, with motor-pacing,
reducing her former record to 5 hrs. 33 mins,
8 sees.

86

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

On November 7th the Surrey Walking Club's
Brighton and back match was won by H. W. Horton,
in 20 hrs. 31 mins. 53 sees., disposing of Butler's best of

MISS M. FOSTER, PACED BY MOTOR-BICYCLE, PASSING
COULSDON.

October 31st, 1902, by a margin of 1 hr. 4 mins. 84 sees.

With 1904 a decline in Brighton Road sport set in,

for it was memorable only for the Blaekheath and

PEDESTRIAN RECORDS 87

Ranelagh Harriers' inter-club walk to Brighton of
April 9th. But that was indeed a memorable event,
for T. E. Hammond then abolished Butler's remaining
record, of 8 hrs. 43 mins. 16 sees, for the single trip,
and replaced it by his own of 8 hrs. 26 mins. 57| sees.

Even the efforts of cyclists seem to for a time have
spent themselves, for 1905 witnessed only the new
unpaced record made July 19th by R. Shirley, who
cycled there and back in 5 hrs. 22 mins. 5 sees., thus
shearing off a mere 8 mins. 5 sees, from Green's per-
formance of so long as three years before. What the
future may have in store none may be so hardy as to
prophesy. Finality has a way of ever receding into
the infinite, and when the unpaced cyclist shall have
beaten the paced record of 5 hrs. 6 mins. 42 sees, made
by Neason in 1897, other new fields will arise to be
conquered. And let no one say that speed and sport
on the Brighton Road have finally declined, for, as
we have seen, it is abundantly easy in these days for
a popular Press to " call spirits from the vasty deep,"
and arouse sporting enthusiasm almost to frenzy,
whenever and wherever it is " worth the while."

Thus, in pedcstrianism, other new times have since
been set up. On September 22nd, 1906, J. Butler,
in the Polytechnic Harriers' Open Walk, finished to
Brighton in 8 hrs. 23 mins. 27 sees. On June 22nd,
1907, Hammond performed the double journey,
London to Brighton and back, in 18 hrs. 13 mins.
37 sees. And on May 1st, 1909, he regained the single
journey record by his performance of 8 hrs. 18 mins.
18 sees. On September 4th of the same year H. L.
Ross further reduced the figures to 8 hrs. 11 mins.
14 sees.

88

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

BRIGHTON ROAD RECORDS.
Riding, Driving, Cycling, Running, Walking, etc.

Date.

Time.

1784, July 25.

„ Aug. 21.
1809, May.
1831, June 19.

1833, Oct.

1834, Feb. 4.

1868. Mar. 20.

1869, Feb. 17.

„ Mar. 6.
„ April 14.

1872, Sept. 19.

1873, Aug. 16.

1874, April 27.
1878,—.

1884, — .
1886, April 10.
1888, Jan. 1.

h. m. s.

Prince of Wales rode horseback from
the " Pavilion," Brighton, to Carlton
House, London, and returned .10

Going 4 30

Returning . . . . 5 30

Prince of Wales drove phreton, three
horses tandem, from Carlton House
to " Pavilion " . . . . 4 30

Cornet Webster of the 10th Light
Dragoons, rode horseback from
Brighton to Westminster Bridge . 3 20

The " Red Rover " coach, leaving the
" Elephant and Castle " at 4 p.m.,
reached Brighton 8.21 . . . 4 21

Walter Hancock's steam-carriage
" Autopsy " performed the distance
between Stratford and Brighton . j 8 30
(Halted 3 hours on road. Actual
running time, 5 hrs. 30 mins.)

" Criterion " coach, London to

Brighton 3 40

Benjamin B. Trench walked Kcnning-
ton Church to Brighton and back
(100 miles) 23

John Mayall, jun., rode a velocipede
from Trafalgar Square to Brighton
in " about " . . . . 12

W. M. and H.J. Chinnery walked from

Westminster Bridge to Brighton . 11 25

C. A. Booth rode a velocipede London

to Brighton . . . . 9 30

Amateur Bicycle Club's race, London
to Brighton ; won by A. Temple,
riding a 44-in. wheel . . . 5 25

Six members of the Surrey B.C. and
six of the Middlesex B.C. rode to
Brighton and back, starting from
Kennington Oval at 6.1 a.m.
Causton, captain of the Surrey,
reached the " Albion," Brighton, in
4 hrs. 51 mins., riding a 50 -in. Keen
bicycle. W. Wood (Middlesex) did
the 100 miles . . . . 11 8

A. Howard cycled Brighton to London 4 25

P. J. Burt walked from Westminster

Clock Tower to Aquarium, Brighton 10 52

C. L. O'Malley walked from West-
minster Clock Tower to Aquarium,
Brighton 9 48

J. A. Mcintosh walked from West-
minster Clock Tower to Aquarium,
Brighton 9 25 8

Horse " Ginger " trotted to Brighton . 4 16 30

RECORDS, TABULATED

89

Date.

Time.

1888, July 13.

1889, Aug. 10.

1890

Mar. 30

AprU 13

June.

July 23

Sept. 3

„ 30

1891

Mar. 20

1892

June 1

;;

Sept. 6
9

1893

Sept. 12
„ 17
,. 19
,. 22

1894

Oct. 4

June 11

Sept. 12

„ 20

„

„ 22

1895

Sept. 26
Oct. 17
Nov.

1896

Juno 26

r.,

— .

;;

July 15
Sept. 15

James Sclby drove " Old Times "

coach from " Hatchett's," Piccadilly,

to " Old Ship," Brighton, and back

Going .....

Retvirning ....

Team of four cyclists — E. J. Willis,
G. L. Morris, C. W. Schafer, and S.
Walker — dividing the distance
between them, cycled from
" Hatchett's," Piccadilly, to " Old
Ship," Brighton, and back

Another team — J. F. Shute, T. W.
Girling, R. Wilson, and A. E. Griffin
— reduced first team's time by 4
mins. 19| sees. ....

Another team — E. R. and W. Scantle-
bury, W. W. Arnott, and J. Blair .

F. W. Shorland cycled from
" Hatchett's " to " Old Ship " and
back (" Geared Facile " bicycle,
pneumatic tyres) ....

S. F. Edge cycled from " Hatchett's "
to " Old Ship " and back (safety
bicycle, cushion tyres) .

C. A. Smith cycled from " Hatchett's "
to " Old Ship " (safety bicycle,
pneumatic tyres) and back

E. P. Moorhouse cycled (tricycle) from
" Hatchett's " to " Old Ship "

E. H. Cuthbertson walked from
" Hatchett's " to " Old Ship "
From Westminster Clock Tower .

S. F. Edge cycled from " Hatchett's "
to " Old Ship " and back

E. Dance cycled to Brighton and back

R. C. Nesbit cycled (high bicycle) to
Brighton and back

S. F. Edge cycled to Brighton and back

A. E. Knight

C. A. Smith

S. F. Edge

E. Dance ,, „

W. W. Robertson (tricycle) „

W. R. Toft

C. G. Wridgway „ „

Miss Reynolds cycled to Brighton and
back ......

Miss White cycled to Brighton and
back ......

A. A. Chase, Brighton and back

J. Parsley (tricycle)

J. H. Herbert cycled backwards to
Brighton .....

E. D. Smith and C. A. Greenwood
(tandem) .....

W. Franks walked from south side of
Westminster Bridge to Brighton

O. G. Wridgway ....

H. Green and W. Nelson (tandem)

7 50
3 56
3 54

7

36

19f

7

32

7

25

15

7

19

7 2 50

6

52

10

8

9

24

10

6

18

9

55

34

6

51

7

6

49

1

7

42

50

6

13

48

fi

10

29

6

6

46

5

52

30

5

52

18

7

24

2

6

21

30

5

35

32

7

48

46

7

6

46

5

34

58

6

18

28

7

45

5

37

34

9

7

7

5

22

33

5

20

35

00

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Date.

Time.

1896,

Nov.

14

1897

April 10

May

4

July

12
13

Sept.

11

Oct.

27

18

98

Sept.

27

1899

May

6

jj

Juno 30

1902

Aug.

21

"

Oct.

31

1903

Mar.

14

„

May

1

"

June 20

„

Aug.

,

J

Nov.

7

1904, April 9.

1905, July 19.

1905, — .

1906. Sept. 22.

" Motor-car Day." A 6 h.p. Boll6e
motor started from Hotel Metropole,
London, at 11.30 a.m., and reached
Brighton at 2.25 p.m. .

Polytechnic Harriers' walk, West-
minster Clock Tower to Brighton.
E. Knott

W. J. Neason cycled to Brighton and
back ......

Miss M. Foster cycled from Hyde Park
Comer to Brighton and back

Richard Palmer cycled to Brighton and
back ......

W. J. Neason cycled from London to
Brighton and back

P. Wheelock and G. J. FuUord
(tandem) . . . . .

L. Franks and G. Franks (tandem
safety) . . . . .

E. J. Steel cycled London to Brighton
and back (unpaeed)

P. F. A. Gomme, London to Brighton
and back (tricycle, unpaced)

South London Harriers' " go-as-you-
please " running match, West-
minster Clock Tower to Brighton.
Won by F. D. Randall .

H. Green cycled from London to
Brighton and back (unpaced)

H. Green cycled from London to
Brighton and back (unpaced)

Surrey Walking Club's match, West-
minster Clock Tower to Brighton
and back. J. Butler

J. Butler walked from Westminster
Clock Tower to Brighton

Stock Exchange Walk, won by E. F.
Broad .....

Running Match, Westminster Clock
Tower to Brighton. Won by Len
Hurst ......

Miss M. Foster cycled to Brighton and
back (motor-paced)

Surrey Walking Club's match, West-
minster Clock Tower to Brighton
and back. H. W. Horton

P. Wheelock and G. Fulford (tandem
safety) .....

A. C. Gray and H. L. Dixon (tandem
safety, unpaced) ....

Blackheath and Ranelagh Harriers,
inter-club walk, Westminster Clock
Tower to Brighton. T. E. Hammond

R. Shirley, Polytechnic CO., cycled
Brighton and back (unpaced)

J. Parsley (tricycle)

H. S. Price (tricycle, unpaced) .

J. Butler walked to Brighton

S. C. Paget and M. R. Mott (tandem
safety, impaced) ....

2 55

8 56

44

5 19

39

6 45

9

5 9

45

5 6

42

4 54

54

5

56

6 23

55

8 11

10

6 58

18

5 50

23

5 30

22

21 36

27

8 43

16

9 30

1

6 32

5 33

8

20 31

53

4 54

54

5 17

18

8 26

57f

5 22

6 18
6 53
8 23

5

28

5

27

5 9 20

RECORDS, TABULATED

91

Date.

Time.

1906. — .

1907, June 22.

1908,
1909,

1910,
1912,

May
Sept.

June 19.

1913, — .

H. Green (safety cycle, unpaced)

R. Shirley

L. Dralce (tricycle, unpaced)

J. D. Daymond „ „ . •

T. E. Hammond walked to Brighton

and back .....
C. and A. Richards (tandem-safety,

unpaced) .....
G. H. Briault and E. Ward (tandem

safety, unpaced) ....
G. H. Briault (tricycle, unpaced)
T. E. Hammond walked to Brighton .
H. L. Ross „ „

Harry Green cycled Brighton and back

(unpaced) .....
L. S. Leake and G. H. Spencer

(tandem tricycle, unpaced)
Fredk. H. Grubb cycled (paced)

Brighton and back
E. H. and S. Hulbert (tandem tricycle,

unpaced) .....
H. G. Cook (tricycle, unpaced) .

NOTE. — The fastest L.B. & S.C.R. train, the 5 p.m.
Pulman Express from London Bridge, reaches
Brighton (51 miles) at 6.0 p.m. . . . .

5
5
6
6

20
15
24
19

22
29
56
48

18

13

37

5

5

25

4
6

8
8

53

8

18

11

48
24
18
14

5

12

14

5

59

51

5

9

41

5
6

42

7

21
4

10

92 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

X

We may now, somewhat belatedly, after recounting
these varied annals of the way to Brighton, start along
the road itself, coming from the south side of West-
minster Bridge to Kennington.

No one scanning the grey vista of the Kennington
Road would, on sight, accuse Kennington of owning
a past : but, as a sheer matter of fact, it is an historic
place. It is the " Chenintun " of Domesday Book,
and the Cyningtun or Koningtun — the King's town —
of an even earUer time. It was indeed a royal manor
belonging to Canute, and the site of the palace where
his son, Hardicanute, died, mad drunk, in 1042.
Edward the Third annexed it to his Duchy of Cornwall,
and even yet, after the vicissitudes of nine hundred
years, the Prince of Wales, as Duke of Cornwall, owns
house property here. Kennington Park, too, has its
own sombre romance, for it was an open common
until 1851, and a favourite place of execution for
Surrey malefactors. Here the minor prisoners among
the Scottish rebels captured by the Duke of Cumberland
in the '45 were executed, those of greater consideration
being beheaded on Tower Hill. It is an odd coincidence
that, among the lesser titles of " Butcher Cumberland "
himself was that of Earl of Kennington.

At this junction of roads, where the Kennington
Road, the Kennington Park Road, the Camberwell
New Road, and the Brixton Road, all pool their
traffic, there stood, in times not so far removed but
that some yet living can remember it, Kennington
Gate, an important turnpike at any time, and one of
very great traffic on Derby Day, when, I fear, the
pikeman was freely bilked of his due at the hands of
sportsmen, noble and ignoble. There is a view of
this gate on such a day drawn by James Pollard, and
published in 1839, which gives a very good idea of the
amount of traffic and, incidentally, of the curious
costumes of the period. You shall also find in the
" Comic Almanack " for 1837 an illustration by

KENNINGTON GATE 98

George Cruikshank of this same place, one would say,
although it is not mentioned by name, in which is an
immense jostling crowd anxious to pass through, while
the pikeman, having apparently been " cheeked " by
the occupants of a passing vehicle, is vulgarly engaged,
I grieve to state, in " taking a sight " at them. That
is to say, he has, according to the poet, " Put his
thumb unto his nose and spread his fingers out."

Kennington Gate was swept away, with other purely
Metropolitan turnpike gates, October 31st, 1865, and
is now to be found in the yard of Clare's Depository
at the crest of Brixton Hill. It was one of nine that
barred this route from London to the sea in 1826.
The others were at South End, Croydon ; Foxley
Hatch, or Purley Gate, which stood near Purley
Corner, by the twelfth milestone, until 1853 ; and
Frenches, 19 miles 4 furlongs from London — that is
to say, just before you come into Redhill streets.
Leaving Redhill behind, another gate spanned the
road at Salfords, below Earls wood Common, while
others were situated at Horley, Ansty Cross, Stone-
pound, one mile short of Clayton ; and at Preston,
afterwards removed to Patcham.*

Not the most charitable person could lay his hand
upon his heart and declare, honestly, that the church
of St. Mark, Kennington, which stands at this beginning
of the Brixton Road, is other than extremely hideous.
Fortunately, its pagan architecture, once fondly
thought to revive the glories of old Greece, is largely
screened from sight by the thriving trees of its church-
yard, and so nervous wayfarers are spared something
of the inevitable shock.

• In 1829 there were throe additional gates : one at Crawley,
another at Hand Cross, before you came to the " Red Lion," and
one more at Slough Green. Meanwhile the Horloy gate on this
route had disappeared. At a later period another gate was added,
at Merstham, just past the " Feathers." On the other routes there
were, of course, yet more gates — e.g., those of Sutton, Reigate,
Wray Park, Woodhatch, Dale, and many more.

Salfords gate was the last on the main Brighton Road. It
remained until midnight, October 31st, 1881, when the Reigate
Turnpilce Trust expired, after an existence of 126 years. Not until
then did this most famous highway become free and open throughout
its whole distance.

94 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

The story of Kennington Church does not take us
very far back, down the dim alleys of history, for it
was built so recently as the first quarter of the
nineteenth century, when it was thought possible to
emulate the marble beauties of the Parthenon and
other triumphs of classic architecture in plebeian
brick and stone. Those materials, however, and the
architects themselves, were found to be somewhat
inferior to their models, and eventually the public
taste became so outraged with the appalling ugliness
of the pagan temples arising on every hand that at
length the Gothic revival of the mid-nineteenth
century set in.

But if its history is not long, its site has a horrid
kind of historic association, for the building stands on
what was a portion of Kennington Common, the exact
spot where the unhappy Scottish rebels were executed
in 174.6, and where Jerry Abershawe, the highwayman,
was hanged in 1795. The remains of the gibbet on
which the bodies of some of his fellow knights of the
road were exposed were actually found when the
foundations for the church were being dug out.

The origin of Kennington Church, like that of
Brixton, is so singular that it is very well worth while
to inquire into it. It was a direct outcome of the
Napoleonic wars. England had been so long engaged
in those European struggles, and was so wearied and
impoverished by them, that Parliament could think
of nothing better than to celebrate the peace of 1815
by voting a million and a half of money to the clergy
•as a " thank-offering." This sum took the shape of a
church-building fund. Wages were low, work was
scarce, and bread was so dear that the people were
starving. That good paternal Parliament, therefore,
when they asked for bread gave them stone and brick,
and performed the heroic feat of picking their
impoverished pockets as well. It was accomplished
in this wise. There was that Lucky Bag, the million
and a half sterling of the Thanksgiving Fund ; but
it could not be dipped into unless you gave an equal

HALF-PRICE CHURCHES 97

sum to that you took out, and then expended the whole
on })uilding churches. And yet it has been said that
ParHanient has no sense of the ridiculous ! Why, it
was the most stupendous of practical jokes !

Lambeth was at that time a suburban and a greatly
expanding parish, and was one of those that accepted
this offer, and took what came eventually to be called
Half Price Churches. It gave a large order, and took
four : those of Kennington, Waterloo, Brixton, and
Norwood, all ferociously hideous, and costing £15,000
apiece ; the Government granting one moiety and the
other being raised by a parish rate on all, without
distinction of creed. The Government also remitted
the usual taxes on the building materials, and in some
instances further helped the people to rejoice by
imposing a compulsory rate of twopence in the pound,
to pay the rector or vicar. All this did more to weaken
the Church of England than even a century of
scandalous inefficiency :

Abuse a man, and he may brook it,

But keep your hands out of his breeches pocket.

The major part of these grievances was adjusted by
the Act of 1868, abolishing all Church rates, excepting
those levied under special Acts ; but the eyesores will
not be redressed until the temples are pulled down and
rebuilt.

Brixton appears in Domesday as " Brixistan,"
which in later ages became " Brixtow " ; and the
Brixton Road follows the line of a Roman way on
which Streatham stood. Both the Domesday name
of Brixton and the name of Streatham are significant,
indicating their position on the stones and the street,
i.e., the paved thoroughfare alluded to in " Brixton
causeway," marked on old suburban maps.

The Brixton Road, even down to the middle of the
nineteenth century, was a pretty place. On the left-
hand side, as you made for Streatham, ran the river
Effra. It was a clear and sparkling stream, twelve
G

98 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

feet wide, which, rising at Norwood, eventually found
its way into the Thames at Vauxhall. Its course ran
where the front gardens of the houses on that side
of the road are now situated, and at that period every
house was fronted by its little bridge ; but the
unfortunate Effra has long since been thrust underground
in a sewer-pipe, and the sole reminiscence of it to be
seen is the name of Effra Road, beside Brixton Church.

The " White Horse " public-house, where the
omnibuses halt, was in those times a lonely inn,
neighboured only by a farm ; but with the dawn of
the nineteenth century a new suburb began to spring
up, where Angell Road now stands, called " Angel 1
Town," and then the houses of Brixton Road began
to arise. It is curious to note that the last of the old
watchmen's wooden boxes was standing in front of
Claremont Lodge, 168, Brixton Road, until about 1875.

There is little in the Lower Brixton Road that is
reminiscent of the Regency, but a very great deal of
early suburban comfort evident in the old mansions
of the Rise and the Hill, built in days when by a
" suburban villa " you did not mean a cheap house in
a cheap suburban road, but — to speak in the language
of auctioneers — a " commodious residence situate in
its own ornamental grounds, replete with every
convenience," or something in that eloquent style.
For when you ascend gradually, past the Bon Marche,
and come to the hill-top, you leave for awhile the shops
and the continuous, conjoined houses, and arrive, past
the transitional stage of semi-detachedness, at the
wholly blest condition of splendid isolation in the rear
of fences and carriage entrances, with gentility-balls
on the gate-^posts, a circular lawn in front of the house,
skirted by its gravel drive, and perhaps even a stone
dog on either side of the doorway ! Solid comfort
resides within those four-square walls, and reclines in
saddle-bag armchairs, thinking complacently of big
bank balances, all derived from wholesale dealing in
the City, and now enjoyed, and added to, in the third
and fourth generations ; for these solid houses were

BRIXTON HILL 09

built a century ago, or thereby. They are not
beautiful, nor indeed are they ugly. Built of good
yellow stock brick, grown decorously neutral- tinted
with age, and sparsely relieved, it may be, with stucco
pilasters picked out with raised medallions or plaster
wreaths. Supremely unimaginative, admirably free
from tawdry affectations of Art, unquestionably
permanent — and large. They are, indeed, of such
spaciousness and commodious quality that an
auctioneer who all his life long has been ascribing
those characteristics to houses which do not possess
them feels a vast despair possess his soul when it falls
to his lot to professionally describe such an one. And
yet I think few ever realise the scale of these villas
and their grounds until the houses themselves are
pulled down and the grounds laid out as building plots
for what we now understand by " villas " — a fate that
has lately befallen a few. When it is reaHsed that the
site lately occupied by one of these staid mansions and
its surrounding gardens will presently harbour thirty
or forty little modem houses — why, then an unwonted
respect is felt for it and its kind.

Brixton Hill brings one up out of the valley of the
Thames. The hideous church of Brixton stands on
the crest of it, with the hulking monument of the
Budd family, all scarabei and classic emblems of death,
prominent at the angle of the roads — ^a memento mori,
ever since the twenties, for travellers down the road.

Among the mouldering tombstones, whose neglect
proves that grief, as well as joy and everything else
human, passes, is one in shape like a biscuit-box, to
John Miles Hine, who died, aged seventeen, in 1824.
A verse, plainly to be read by the wayfarer along the
pavements of Brixton Hill, accompanies name and date :

O Miles ! the modest, learned and sincere
Will sigh for thee, whose ashes slumber here ;
The youthful bard will pluck a floweret pale
From this sad turf whene'er he reads tlie tale.
That one so yoimg and lovely — died — and last.
When the sun's vigour warms, or tempests rave.
Shall come in summer's bloom and winter's blast,
A Mother, to weep o'er this hopeless grave.

100 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

An inscription on another side shows us that her
weeping was ended in 1837, when she died, aged fifty-
two ; and now there is no turf and no flowerets, and
the tomb is neglected, and the cats make their midnight
assignations on it when the electric trams have gone
to bed and Brixton snores.

On the right hajid side, at the summit of Brixton
Hill, there still remains an old windmill. It is in
Cornwall Road. True, the sails of its tall black tower
are gone, and the wind-power that drove the machinery
is now replaced by a gas-engine ; but in the okl
building corn is yet ground, as it has been since in
1816 John Ashby, the Quaker grandfather of the
present millers, Messrs. Joshua & Bernard Ashby,
built that tower. Here, unexpectedly,^ amid typical
modern suburban developments, you enter an old-
world yard, with barns, stables and cottage, pretty
much the same as they were over a hundred years ago,
when the mill first arose on this hill-top, and London
seemed far away.

And so to Streatham, once rightly " Streatham,
Surrey," in the postal address, but now merely
" Streatham, S.W." A world of significance lies in
that apparently simple change, which means that it
is now in the London Postal District. Even so early
as 1850 we read in Brayley's " History of Surrey "
that " the village of Streatham is formed by an almost
continuous range of villas and other respectable
dwellings." Respectable ! I should think so, indeed !
Conceive the almost impious inadequacy of calling the
Streatham Hill mansions of City magnates
" respectable." As well might one style the Alps
" pretty " !

But this spot was not always of such respectability,
for about 1730 there stood a gibbet on Streatham Hill,
by the fifth milestone, and from it hung in chains the
body of one " Jack Gutteridge," a highwayman duly
executed for robbing and murdering a gentleman's
servant here. The place was long afterwards known
as " Jack Gutteridge's Gate."

102 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Streatham — the Ham (that is to say the home, or
the hamlet) on the Street — emphatically in those
Saxon times when it first obtained its name, the Street
— was probably so named to distinguish it from some
other settlement situated in the mud. In that era,
when hard roads were few, a paved way could be, and
very often was, made to stand godfather to a place,
and thus we find so many Streatleys, Stratfords,
Strattons, Streets, and Stroods on the map. Those
" streets " were Roman roads. The particular " street "
on which Streatham stood seems to have been a Roman
road which came up from the coast by Clayton, St.
John's Common, Godstone, and Caterham, a branch
of the road to PoHus Adurni, the Old Shoreham of
to-day. Portions of it were discovered in 1780, on
St. John's Common, when the Brighton turnpike road
through that place was under construction. It was
from 18 to 20 feet wide, and composed of a bed of
flints, grouted together, 8 inches thick. Narrowly
avoiding Croydon, it reached Streatham by way of
Waddon (where there is one of the many " Cold
Harbours " associated so intimately with Roman
roads) and joined the present Brighton Road midway
between Croydon and Thornton Heath Pond, at what
used to be Broad Green.

There are no Roman remains at twentieth-century
Streatham, and there are very few even of the
eighteenth century. The suburbs have absorbed the
village, and Dr. Johnson himself and Thrale Place are
only memories. " All flesh i^ grass," said the Preacher,
and therefore Dr. Johnson, whose bulky figure we may
put at the equivalent of a truss of hay, is of course but
an historic name ; but bricks and mortar last
immeasurably longer than those who rear them, and
his haunts might have been still extant but for the
tragical nearness of Streatham to London and that
" ripeness " of land for building which has abolished
many a pleasant and an historic spot.

But while the broad Common of Streatham remains
unfenced, the place will keep a vestige of its old-time

DOCTOR JOHNSON 108

character of roadside village. A good deal earlier than
Dr. Samuel Johnson's visits to Streatham and Thrale
Place, the village had quite a rosy chance of becoming
another Tunbridge Wells or Cheltenham, for in the
early j'^ears of the eighteenth century it became known
as a Spa, and real and imaginary invalids flocked to
drink the disagreeable waters issuing from what
quaint old Aubrey calls the " sower and weeping
ground " by the Common. Whether the waters were
too nasty, or not nasty enough, does not appear, but
it is certain that the rivalry of Streatham to those
other Spas was neither long-continued nor serious.

Streatham is content to forget its waters, but the
memory of Dr. Johnson will not be dropped, for if it
were, no one knows to what quarter Streatham could
turn for any history or traditions at all. As it is, the
mind's-eye picture is cherished of that grumbling,
unwieldy figure coming down from London to Thrale's
house, to be lionised and indulged, and in return to
give Mrs. Thrale a reflected glory. The lion had the
manners of a bear, and, like a dancing bear, performed
clumsy evolutions for buns and cakes ; but he had a
heart as tender as a child's, and a simple vanity as
engaging, beneath that unpromising exterior and those
pompous ways. Wig awry and singed in front from
his short-sighted porings over the midnight oil, clothes
shabby, and linen that journeyed only at long intervals to
the wash-tub, his was not the aspect of a carpet-knight,
and those he met at the literary-artistic tea-table of
Thrale Place murmured that he was an "original."

He met a brilliant company over those teacups :
Reynolds and Garrick, and Fanny Burney — the
readiest hand at the " management " of one so difficult
and intractable— and many lesser lights, and partook
there of innumerable cups of tea, dispensed at that
hospitable board by Mrs. Thrale. That historic tea-
pot is still extant, and has a capacity of three quarts ;
specially chosen, doubtless, in view of the Doctor's
visits. Ye gods ! what floods of Bohea were consumed
within that house in Thrale Park 1

104 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Tliey even seated the studious Johnson on horseback
and took him hunting ; and, strange to say, he does
not merely seem to have only just saved himself from
falling off, but is said to have acquitted himself as well
as any country squire on that notable occasion.

But all things have an end, and the day was to come
when Johnson should bid a last farewell to Streatham.
He had broken with the widowed Mrs. Thrale on the
subject of her marriage with Piozzi, and he could no
longer bear to see the place. So, in one endearing
touch of sentiment, he gave it good-bye, as his diary
records :

" Sunday, went "to church at Streatham. Templo
valedixi cum osculo.'''' Thus, kissing the old porch of
St. Leonard's, the lexicographer departed with heavy
heart. Two years later he died.

This Church of St. Leonard still contains the Latin
epitaph he wrote to commemorate the easy virtues of
his friend Henry Thrale, who died in 1781, but altera-
tions and restorations have changed almost all else.
It is, in truth, a dreadful example, externally, of the
Early Compo Period, and internally of the Late
Churchwarden, or Galleried, Style.

It is curious to note the learned Doctor's indignation
when asked to write an English epitaph for setting up
in Westminster Abbey. The great authority on the
English language, the compiler of that monumental
dictionary, exclaimed that he would not desecrate its
walls with an inscription in his own tongue. Thus
the pedant !

There is one Latin epitaph at Streatham that reads
curiously. It is on a tablet by Richard Westmacott
to Frederick Howard, who in pugna W aterlooensi
occiso. The battle of Waterloo looks strange in that
garb.

But Latin is frequent here, and free. The tablets
that jostle one another down the aisles are abounding
in that tongue, and the little brass to an ecclesiastic,
nailed upon the woodwork toward the west end of the
north aisle, is not free from it. So the shade of the

GIBBETS BY THE WAY 105

Doctor, if ever it revisits these scenes, might well be
satisfied with the quantity, although it is not incon-
ceivable he would cavil at the quality. '

XI

Thrale Park has gone the way of all suburban
estates in these days of the speculative builder. The
house was pulled down so long ago as 1863, and its
lands laid out in building plots. Lysons, writing of
its demesne in 1792, says that " Adjoining the hou/e
is an enclo/ure of about 100 acres, /urroundcd with a
/hrubbery and gravel-walk of nearly two miles in
circumference." Trim villas and a suburban church
now occupy the spot, and the memory of the house
itself has faded away. Save for its size, the house
made no brave show, being merely one of many
hundreds of mansions built in the seventeenth century,
of a debased classic type.

Streatham Common and Thornton Heath were still,
in Johnston's time, and indeed for long after, good
places for the highwaymen and for the Dark Lurk of
the less picturesque, but infinitely more dangerous,
foot-pad. Law-abiding people did not care to travel
them after nightfall, and when compelled to do so
went escorted and armed. Ogilby, in his " Britannia "
of 1675, showed the pictures of a gallows on the summit
of Brixton Hill and another (a very large one) at
Thornton Heath ; and according to a later editor, who
issued an " Ogilby Improv'd " in 1731, they still
decorated the wayside. They were no doubt retained
for some time longer, in the hope of affording a warning
to those who robbed upon the highway.

At Norbury railway station the railway crosses over
the road, and eminently respectable suburbs occupy
that wayside where the foot-pads used to await the
timorous traveller. Trim villas rise in hundreds, and
where the extra large and permanent gallows stood,

106 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

like a football goal, at what used to be a horse-pond,
there is to-day the prettily-planted garden and pond
of Thornton Heath, with a Jubilee fountain which
has in later years been persuaded to play.

Midway between Norbury and Thornton Heath
stands, or stood, Norbury Hall, the delightful park
and mansion where J. W. Hobbs, ex-Mayor of Croydon,
resided until he was convicted of forgery at the
Central Criminal Court in March, 1893, and sentenced
to twelve years penal servitude. " T 180," as he was
known when a convict, was released on licence on
January 18th, 1898, and returned to his country-seat.
Meanwhile, the Congregational Chapel he had presented
to that sect was paid for, to remove the stigma of being
his gift ; just as the Communion-service presented to
St. Paul's Cathedral by the company-promoting Hooley
was returned when his bankruptcy scandalised
commercial circles.

The estate of Norbury Hall has since T 180's release
become " ripe for building," and the mansion, the lake,
and the beautiful grounds have been " developed "
away. Soon all memory of the romantic spot will
have faded.

Prominently over the sea of roofs in the valley, and
above the white hillside villas of Sydenham and
Gipsy Hill, rise the towers and the long body of the
Crystal Palace ; that bane and obsession of most
view-points in South London, " for ever spoiling the
view in all its compass," as Ruskin truly says in
" Praeterita."

I do not like the Crystal Palace. The atmosphere
of the building is stuffily reminiscent of half a century's
stale teas and buttered toast, and the views of it, near
or distant, are very creepily and awfully like the
dreadful engravings after 5lartin, the painter of such
scriptural scenes as " Belshazzar's Feast " and horribly-
conceived apocalyptic subjects from Revelation.

At Thornton Heath — where there has been nothing
in the nature of a heath for at least eighty years past —
the electric trams of Croydon begin, and take you

108 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

through North End into and through Croydon town,
along a continuous Une of houses. " Broad Green "
once stood by the wayside, but nowadays the sole
trace of it is the street called Broad Green Avenue.
At Thornton Heath, however, there is just one little
vestige of the past left, in " Colliers' Water Lane."
The old farmhouse of Colliers' Water, reputed haunt
of the phenomenally ubiquitous Dick Turpin, was
demolished in 1897. Turpin probably never knew it,
and the secret staircase it possessed was no doubt
intended to hide fugitives much more respectable than
highwaymen.

The name of that lane is now the onl}^ reminder of
the time when Croydon was a veritable Black Country.

The " colliers of Croydon," whose black trade gave
such employment to seventeenth-century wits, had
no connection with what our ancestors of very recent
times still called " sea-coal " — that is to say, coal
shipped from Newcastle and brought round by water,
in days before railways. The Croydon coal was
charcoal, made from the wood of the dense forests
that once overspread the counties of Surrey and
Sussex, and was supplied very largely to London from
the fifteenth century down to the beginning of the
nineteenth.

Grimes, the collier of Croydon, first made the
Croydon colliers famous. We are not to suppose that
his name was really Grimes : that was probably a
part of the wit alreadj' hinted at. He was a master
collier, who in the time of Edward the Sixth made
charcoal on so large a scale that the smoke and the
grime of it became offensive to his Grace the Archbishop
of Canterbury in his palace of Croydon, who made an
unsuccessful attempt to abolish the kilns. I think we
may sympathise with his Grace and his soiled lawn-
sleeves.

We first find Croydon mentioned in a.d. 962, when
it was " Crogdoene." In Domesday Book it is
" Croindene." Whether the name means " crooked
vale," " chalk vale," or " town of the cross," I will not

GROWTH OF CROYDON 109

pretend to say, and he would be rash who did. The
aneient history of the place is bound up with the
archbishojiric of Canterbury, for the manor was given
by the Conqueror to Lanfranc, who is supposed to
have been the founder of the palaee, which still stands
next the parish church, and was a residence of the
Primate until 1750.

By that time Croydon had begun to grow, and not
only had the old buildings become inconvenient, but
a population surrounded those dignified churchmen,
who, after the manner of archbishops, retired to a more
secluded home. They not only flew from contact with
the people, whose spiritual needs might surely have
anchored them to the spot, but by the promotion of
the Enclosure Act of 1797 they robbed the people of
the far-spreading common lands in the parish.
Croydon by that time numbered between five and
six thousand inhabitants, and was thought quite a
considerable place. A hundred and ten years have
added a hundred and twenty-five thousand more to
that considerable population, and still Croydon grows.

In those times the woodlands closely encircled the
little town. In 1620 they came up to the parish
church and the palace, which was then said to be a
" very obscure and darke place." Archbishop Abbot
" expounded " it by felling the timber. It was in
those times surrounded by a moat, fed by the head-
spring of the Wandle ; "but the moat is gone, and the
first few yards of the Wandle are nowadays made to
flow underground.

The explorer of the Brighton Road who comes, by
whatever method of progression he pleases, into
Croydon, finds its busy centre at what is still called
North End. The name survives long after the
circumstances that conferred it have vanished into
the limbo of forgotten things. It was the North end
of the town, and here, on what was then a country
site, the good Archbishop Whitgift founded his
Hospital of the Holy Trinity in 1593. It still stands,
although sorely threatened in these last few years ;

no THE BRIGHTON ROAD

but it is now the one quiet and unassuming spot in a
narrow, a busy, and a noisy street. Fronting the main
thoroughfare, it blocks " improvement " ; occupying
a site grown so valuable, its destruction, and the sale
of the ground for building upon, would immensely
profit the good Whitgift's noble charity. What would
Whitgift himself do ? When we have advanced still
farther into the Unknown and can communicate with
the sane among the departed, instead of the idiot
spirits who can do nothing better than levitate chairs
and tables, rap silly messages, and play monkey-
tricks — when we can ring up whom we please at the
Paradise or the Inferno Exchange, as the case may be,
we shall be able to ascertain the will of Pious
Benefactor.'', and much bitterness will cease out of the
land.

Meanwhile the old building for the time survives,
and its name, " The Hospital of the Holy Trinity,"
inscribed high up on the wall, seems strange and
reverend amid the showy shop-signs of a latter-day
commerce.

There is, of course, no reason why, if widening is to
take place, the opposite side of the street should not
be set back, and, indeed, any one standing in that
street will readily perceive it to be that side which
should be demolished, to make a straighter and a
broader thoroughfare. It is therefore quite evident
that the agitation for demolishing the Hospital
is unreal and artificial, and only prompted by
greed for the site.

It is a solitude amid the throng, remarkable in the
collegiate character of its walls of dark and aged red
brick, pierced only by the doorway and as jealously
as possible by the few mullioned windows. Once
within the outer portal, ornamented overhead with
the arms of the See of Canterbury and eloquent with
the motto Qui dat pauperi non indigehit, the stranger
has entered from a striving into a calm and equable
world. It is, as old Aubrey quaintly puts it, "a
handsome edifice, erected in the manner of a college,

112 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

by the Right Reverend Father in God, John Whitgift,
late Archbishop of Canterbury." The dainty quad-
rangle, set about with grass lawns and bright flowers,
is formed on three sides by tiny houses of two floors,
where dwell the poor brothers and sisters of this old
foundation : twenty brothers and sixteen sisters, who,
beside lodging, receive each £40 and £30 a year
respectively. They enjoy all the advantages of the
Hospital so long as of good behaviour, but " obstinate
heresye, sorccrye, any ki nde of charmmynge, or
witchcrafte " are punished by the statutes with
expulsion.

The fourth side of the quadrangle is occupied by
the Hall, the Warden's rooms, and the Chapel, all in
very much the same condition as at their building.
The old oak table in the Hall is dated 1614, and much
of the stained glass is of sixteenth century date.

But it is in the Warden's rooms, above, that the
eye is feasted with old woodwork, ancient panelling,
black with lapse of time, quaint muniment chests,
curious records, and the like. These were the rooms
specially reserved for his personal use during his
lifetime by the pious Archbishop Whitgift.

Here is a case exhibiting the original titles to the
lands on which the Hospital is built, and with which
it is endowed ; formidable sheets of ' parchment,
bearing many seals, and, what does duty for one, a
gold angel of Edward VI.

These are ideal rooms ; rooms which delight with
their unspoiled sixteenth-century air. The sun streams
through the western windows over their deep
embrasures, lighting up so finely the darksome wood-
work into patches of brilliance that there must be
those who envy the Warden his lodging, so perfect a
survival of more spacious days.

A little chapel duly completes the Hospital, and here
is not pomp of carving nor vanity of blazoning, for
the good Archbishop, mindful of economy, would none
of these. The seats and benches are contemporary
with the building, and are rough-hewn. On the

WHITGIFT'S HOSPITAL

113

western wall hangs the founder's portrait, black-
framed and mellow, rescued from the boys of the

jioly Qinly

^ ^^.- %

V

Whitgift schools ere quite destroyed, and on the
other walls are the portrait of a lady, supposed to be
H

114 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

the Archbishop's niece, and a ghastly representation
of Death as a skeleton digging a grave. But all these
things are seen but dimly, for the light is very feeble.

XII

The High Street of Croydon really is high, for it
occupies a ridge and looks down on the right hand on
the Old Town and the valley of the Wandle, or
" Wandel." The centre of Croydon has, in fact, been
removed from down below, where the church and
palace first arose, on the line of the old Roman road,
to this ridge, where within the historic period the
High Street was only a bridle-path avoiding the little
town in the valley.

The High Street, incidentally the Brighton Road as
well, is nowadays a very modern and commercial-
looking thoroughfare, and owes that appearance, and
its comparative width, to the works effected under
the Croydon Improvement Act of 1890. Already
Croydon, given a Mayor and Town Council in 1883,
had grown so greatly that the narrow street was
incapable of accommodating the traffic ; while the
low-lying, and in other senses low, quarter of Market
Street and Middle Row offended the dignity and self-
respect of the new-born Corporation. The Town Hall
stood at that time in the High Street : a curious
example of bastard classic architecture, built in 1808.
Near by was the " Greyhound," an old coaching and
posting inn, with one of those picturesque gallows signs
straddling across the street, of which those of the
" George " at Crawley and the " Greyhound " at
Sutton are surviving examples. That of the " Cock "
at Sutton disappeared in 1898, and the similar signs
of the " Crown," opposite the Whitgift Hospital, and
of the " King's Arms " vanished many years ago.

The " Greyhound " was the principal inn of Croydon
in the old times. The first mention of it is found in

RUSKIN 115

1563, the parish register of that year containing the
entry, " Nicholas Vode (Wood) the son of the good
wyfe of the grewond was buryed the xxix day of
January." The voluminous John Taylor mentions
it in 1624 as one of the two Croydon inns, and it was
the headquarters of General Fairfax in 1645, when
Cromwell vehemently disputed with him under its
roof on the conduct of the campaign, urging more
severe measures.

Following upon the alteration, the " Greyhound "
was rebuilt. Its gallows sign disapj^eared at the same
time, when a curious point arose respecting the post
supporting it on the opposite pavement. Firected in
the easy-going times when such a matter was nothing
more than a little friendly and neighbourly concession,
the square foot of ground it occupied had by lapse of
time become freehold property, and as such it was duly
scheduled and purchased by the Improvements
Committee. A sum of £400 was claimed for freehold
and loss of advertisement, and eventually £350 was paid.

I suppose there can be no two opinions about the
slums cleared away under that Improvement Act ;
but they were very picturesque, if also very dirty
and tumble-down : all nodding gables, cobblestoned
roads, and winding ways. I sorrow, in the artistic way,
for those slums, and in the literary way for a house swept
away at the same time, sentimentally associated with
John Ruskin. It was the inn kept by his maternal
grandmother, and is referred to in " Pra?terita " :

" . . . Of my father's ancestors I know nothing,
nor of my mother's more than that my maternal
grandmother was the landlady of the ' Old King's
Head ' in Market Street, • Croydon ; and I wish she
were alive again, and I could paint her Simone Memmi's
' King's Head ' for a sign." And he adds : " Mean-
time my aunt had remained in Croydon and married
a baker. . . . My aunt lived in the little house still
standing — or which was so four months ago* —

♦ Preface to " Prseterita," dated May 10th, 1885.

116 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

the fasiiionablest in Market Street, having actually
two windows over the shop, in the second story " (sic).

There are slums at Croydon even now, for Croydon
is a highly civilised progressive place, and slums and
slum populations are the exclusive products of civilisa-
tion and progress, and a very severe indictment of
them. But they are new slums ; those poverty-
stricken districts created ad hoc, which seem more
hopeless than the ancient purlieus, and appear to be
as inevitable to and as inseparable from modern great
towns as a hem to a handkerchief.

The old quarter of Croydon began to fall into the
slum condition at about the period of Croydon's first
expansion, when the ol ttoWol impinged too closely
upon the archiepiscopal precincts, and their Graces,
neglecting their ob^'^ious duty in the manner customary
to Graces spiritual and temporal, retired to the
congenial privacy of Addington.

Here stands the magnificent parish church of
Croydon ; its noble tower of the Perpendicular period,
its body of the same style, but a restoration, after the
melancholy havoc caused by the great fire of 1867. It
is one of the few really satisfactory works of Sir
Gilbert Scott ; successful because he was obliged to
forget his own particular fads and to reproduce exactly
what had been destroyed. Another marvellous replica
is the elaborate monument of Archbishop Whitgift,
copied exactly from pictures of that utterly destroyed
in the fire. Archbishop Sheldon's monument, however,
still remains in its mutilated condition, with a scarred
and horrible face calculated to afflict the nervous and
to be remembered in their dreams.

The vicars of Croydon have in the long past been
a varied kind. The Reverend William Clewer, who
held the living from 1660 until 1684, when he was
ejected, was a " smiter," an extortioner, and a
criminal ; but Roland Phillips, a predecessor by some
two hundred years, was something of a seer. Preaching
in 1497, he declared that " we " (the Roman Catholics)
" must root out printing, or printing will root out us."

THE ARCHBISHOP'S PALACE 117

Already, in the twenty years of its existence, it had
undermined superstition, and was presently to root
out the priests, even as he foresaw.

Unquestionably the sight best worth seeing in
Croydon is that next-door neighbour of the church,
the Archbishop's Palace. Comparatively few are those
who see it, because it is just a little way off the road
and is private property and shown only by favour and
courtesy. When the Archbishops deserted the place
it was sold under the Act of Parliament of 1780 and
became the factory of a calico-printer and a laundr3^
Some portions were demolished, the moat was filled
up, the " minnows and the springs of Wandel " of
which lluskin speaks, were moved on, and mean little
streets quartered the ground immediately adjoining.
But, although all those facts are very grim and grey,
it remains true that the old palace is a place very well
worth seeing.

It was again sold in 1887, and purchased by the
Duke of Newcastle, who made it over to the so-called
" Kilburn Sisters," who maintain it as a girls' school.
I do not know, nor seek to inquire, by what right, or
with what object, the " Sisters " who conduct the
school affect the dress of Roman Catholics, while
professing the tenets of the Church of England ; but
under their rule the historic building has been well
treated, and the chapel and other portions repaired,
with every care for their interesting antiquities, under
the eyes of expert and jealous anti-restorers. The
Great Hall, chief feature of the place, still maintains
its fifteenth century chestnut hammerbeam roof and
armorial corbels ; the Long Gallery, where Queen
Elizabeth danced, the State bedroom where she slept,
the Guard Room, quarters of the Archbishops' body-
guard, are all existing ; and the Chapel, with oaken
bench-ends bearing the sculptured arms of Laud, of
Juxon, and others, and the Archbishops' pew, has
lately been brought back to decent condition. Here,
too, is the exquisite oaken gallery at the western end,
known as " Queen EUzabeth's Pew."

118 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

That imperious queen and indefatigable tourist
paid several visits to Croydon Palace, and her
characteristic insolence and freedom of speech were
let loose upon the unoffending wife of Archbishop
Parker when she took her leave. " Madam," she said,
" I may not call you ; mistress I am ashamed to call
you ; and so I know not what to call you ; but,
however, I thank you," It seems evident that the
daughter of Henry the Eighth had, despite her
Protestantism, an historic preference for a celibate
clergy.

XIII

Down amid what remains of the old town is a street
oddly named " Pump Pail." Its strange name causes
many a visit of curiosity, but it is a common-place
street, and contains neither pail nor pump, and
nothing more romantic than a tin tabernacle. But
this, it appears, is not an instance of things not being
what they seem, for in the good old days before the
modern water-supply, one of the parish pumps stood
here, and from it a woman suppUed a house-to-house
delivery of water in pails. The explanation seems too
obvious to be true, and sure enough, a variant kicks
the " pail " over, and tells us that it is properly Pump
Pale, the Place of the Pump, " pale " being an ancient
word, much used in old law-books to indicate a district,
limit of jurisdiction, and so forth.

The modern side of all these things is best exemplified
by the beautiful Town Hall which Croydon has
provided for itself, in place of the ugly old building,
demolished in 1893. It is a noble building, and stands
on a site worthy of it, with broad approaches that
permit good views, without which the best of buildings
is designed in vain. It marks the starting point of
the history of modern Croydon, and is a far cry from
the old building of the bygone Local Board days, when

JABEZ BALFOUR 119

the traffic of the High Street was regulated — or
supposed to be regulated — by the Beadle, and the
rates were low, and Croydon was a country town, and
everything was dull and humdrum. It was a little
unfortunate that the first Mayor of Croydon and
Liberal Member of Parliament for Tamworth, that
highly imaginative financier Jabez Spencer Balfour,
should have been wanted by the police, a fugitive from
justice brought back from the Argentine, and a
criminal convicted of fraud as a company promoter ;
but accidents will happen, and the Town Council did
its best, by turning his portrait face to the wall, and by
subsequently (as it is reported) losing it. He was
sent in 1895, a little belatedly, to fourteen years'
penal servitude, and the victims of his " Liberator "
frauds went into the workhouse for the most part, or
died. He ceased to be V 460 on release on licence,
and became again Jabez Spencer Balfour, and so died,
obscurely.

The Liberal Party in the Government had, over
Jabez Balfour, one of its several narrow escapes from
complete moral ruin ; for Balfour was on extremely
friendly terms with the members of Gladstone's
ministry, 1892-94, and was within an ace of being
given a Cabinet post. Let us pause to consider the
odd affinity between Jabez Balfour and Trebitsch
Lincoln and Liberal politics.

The Town Hall — ahem ! Municipal Buildings —
stands on the site of the disused and abolished Central
Croydon station, and the neighbourhood of it is
glimpsed afar off by the fine tower, 170 ft. in height.
All the departments of the Corporation are housed
under one roof, including the fine Public Library and
its beautiful feature, the Braithwaite Hall. The
Town Council is housed in that municipal splendour
without which no civic body can nowadays deliberate
in comfort, and even the vestibule is worthy of a
palace. I take the following " official " description of it.

" On either side of the vestibule are rooms for
Porter and telephone. Beyond are the hall and

120

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

principal staircase, the shafts of the columns and
the pilasters of which are of a Spanish marble, a sort

OROYDON TOWN HALL.

of jasper, called Rose d 'Andalusia ; the bases and
skirtings are of grand antique. The capitals, architrave.

THE RATEPAYER'S HOME 121

cornices, handrails, etc., are of red Verona marble ;
the balusters, wall-lining and frieze of the entablature
of alabaster, and the dado of the ground floor is
gris-rouge marble. The flooring is of Roman mosaic
of various marbles, purposely kept simple in design
and quiet in colouring. One of the windows has the
arms of H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, and the other
the Borough arms, in stained glass. Above the dado
at the first floor level the walls are painted a delicate
green tint, relieved by a powdering of C's and Civic
Crowns. The doors and their surroundings are of
walnut wood."

Very beautiful indeed. Now let us see the home
of one of Croydon's poorer ratepayers :

On one side of the hall are two rooms, called
respectively the parlour and the kitchen. Beyond
is the scullery. The walls of the staircase are co\'ered
with a sort of plaster called stucco, but closely
resembling road-scrapings : the skirtings are of pitch-
pine, the balusters of the same material. The floorings
are of deal. The roof lets in the rain. Oiie of the
windows is broken and stuffed with rags, the others
are cracked. The walls are stained a delicate green
tint relieved by a film of blue mould, owing to lack
of a damp-course. None of the windows close properly,
the flues smoke into the rooms instead of out of the
chimney-pots, the doors jam, and the surroundings
are wretched beyond description.

Electric tramways now conduct along the Brighton
Road to the uttermost end of the great modern borough
of Croydon, at Purley Corner. Here the explorer
begins to perceive, despite the densely packed houses,
that he is in that " Croydene," or crooked vale, of
Saxon times from which, we are told, Croydon takes
its name ; and he can see also that nature, and not
man, ordained in the first instance the position and
direction of what is now the road to Brighton, in the
bottom, alongside where the Bourne once flowed,
inside the fence of Haling Park. It is, in fact, the
site of a prehistoric track which led the most easy

122 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

ways across the bleak downs, severally through
Smitham Bottom and Caterham.

Beside that stream ran from 1805 until about 1840 the
rails of that long-forgotten pioneer of railways in these
parts, the " Surrey Iron Railway." This was a primi-
tive line constructed for the purpose of affording cheap
and quick transport for coals, bricks, and other heavy
goods, originally between Wandsworth and Croydon,
but extended in 1805 to Merstham, where quarries of
limestone and beds of Fuller's earth are situated.

This railway was the outcome of a project first
mooted in 1799, for a canal from Wandsworth to
Croydon. It was abandoned because of the injury
that might have been caused to the wharves and
factories already existing numerously along the course
of the Wandle, and a railway substituted. The Act
of Parliament was obtained in 1800, and the line
constructed to Croydon in the following year, at a
cost of about £27,000. It was not a railway in the
modern sense, and the haulage was by horses, who
dragged the clumsy waggons along at the rate of about
four miles an hour. The rails, fixed upon stone blocks,
were quite different from those of modern railways
or tramways, being just lengths of angle-iron into
which the wheels of the waggons fitted : [_ J-
Thus, in contradistinction from all other railway or
tramway practice, the flanges were not on the
wheels, but on the rails themselves. The very
frugal object of this was to enable the waggons
to travel on ordinary roads, if necessity arose.

From the point where the Wandle flows into the
Thames, at Wandsworth, along the levels past
Earlsfield and Garratt, the railway went in double
track ; continuing by Merton Abbey, Mitcham (where
the present lane called " Tramway Path " marks its
course) and across Mitcham Common into Croydon by
way of what is now called Church Street, but was
then known as " Iron Road." Thence along South-
bridge Lane and the course of the Bourne, it was
continued to Purley, whence it climbed Smitham

PURLEY 128

Bottom and ran along the left-hand side of the Brighton
Road in a cutting now partly obliterated by the deeper
cutting of the South Eastern line. The ideas of those
old projectors were magnificent, for they cherished a
scheme of extending to Portsmouth ; but the enter-
prise was never a financial success, and that dream was
not realised. Nearly all traces of the old railway are
obliterated.

The marvel-mongers who derive the name of Waddon
from " Woden " find that Haling comes from the
Anglo-Saxon " halig," or holy ; and therefrom have
built up an imaginary picture of ancient heathen rites
celebrated here. The best we can say for those
theories is that they may be correct or they may not.
Of evidence there is, of course, none whatever ; and
certainly it is to be feared that the inhabitants of
Croydon care not one rap about it ; nor even know —
or knowing, are not impressed — that here, in 1624,
died that great Lord High Admiral of England,
Howard of Effingham. It is much more real to them
that the tramcars are twopence all the way.

At the beginning of Haling Park, immediately
beyond the " Swan and Sugarloaf," the Croydon toll-
gate barred the road until 1865. Beyond it, all was
open country. It is a very different tale to-day, now
the stark chalk downs of HaUng and Smitham are being
covered with houses, and the once-familiar great
white scar of Haling Chalk Pit is being screened behind
newly raised roofs and chimney-pots.

The beginning of Purley is marked by a number of
prominent i:)ublic-houses, testifying to the magnificent
thirst of the new suburb. Yoti come past the " Swan
and Sugarloaf " to the " Windsor Castle," the " Purley
Arms," the " Red Deer," and the " Royal Oak " ; and
just beyond, round the corner, is the " Red Lion."
At the " Royal Oak " a very disreputable and stony
road goes off to the left. It looks like, and is, a derelict
highway : once the main road to Godstone and East
Grinstead, but now ending obscurely in a miserable
modern settlement near the newly built station of

124 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Purley Oaks, so called by the Brighton Railway
Company to distinguish it from the older Purley station
— ex "Caterham Junction" — of the South Eastern line.

It was here, at Purley House, or Purley Bury as
it is properly styled, close by the few poor scrubby
and battered remains of the once noble woodland of
Purley Oaks, that John Home Tooke, contentious
partisan and stolid begetter of seditious tracts, lived
— when, indeed, he was not detained within the four
walls of some prison for political offences.

Tooke, whose real name was Home, was born in
1736, the son of a poulterer. At twenty-four years
of age he became a clergyman, and was appointed to
the living of New Brentford, which he held until 1773,
when, clearly seeing how grievously he had missed his
vocation, he studied for the Bar. Thereafter his life
was one long series of battles, hotly contested in
Parliament, in newspapers, books and pamphlets, and
on platforms. He was in general a wrong-headed, as
well as a hot-headed, politician ; but he was sane
enough to oppose the American War when King and
Government were so mad as to provoke and continue
it. Describing the Americans killed and wounded
by the troops at Lexington and Concord as " murdered,"
he was the victim of a Government prosecution for
libel, and was imprisoned for twelve months and fined
£200. He took — no ! that will not do — he " assumed "
the name of Tooke in 1782, in compliment to his friend
William Tooke, who then resided here in this delightful
old country house of Purley. The idea seems to have
been for them to live together in amity, and that
William Tooke, the elder of the two, should leave his
property to his friend. But quarrels arose long before
that, and Home at his friend's death received only
£500, while other disputed points arose, leading to
bitter law-suits.

In 1801 he was Member of Parliament for Old
Saruni ; but how he reconciled the representation of
that rottenest of rotten boroughs with his profession
of reforming Whig does not appear.

HORNE TOOKE 125

He was a many-sided man, of fieree energies and
strong prejudices, but a scholar. While his poHtical
pamphlets are forgotten, his " EIIEA IITEPOENTA ;
or, the Diversioi^ of Purley," which is not really a
hook of sports, is still remembered for its philological
learning. It is a disquisition on the affinities of
prepositions, the relationships of conjunctions, and the
intimacies of other parts of speech. His other
diversions appear to have been less reputable, for he
was the father of one illegitimate son and two daughters.

His intention was to have been buried in the grounds
of Purley House, but when he died, in 1812, at
Wimbledon, his mortal coil was laid to rest at Ealing ;
and so it chanced that the vault he had constructed
in his garden remained, after all, untenanted, with the
unfinished epitaph :

JOHN HORNE TOOKE,

Late Proprietor and now Occupier

of this spot,

was born in June 1736,

Died in

Aged years.
Contented and Grateful.

Purley House is still standing, though considerably
altered, and presents few features reminiscent of the
eighteenth-century politician, and fewer still of the
Puritan Bradshaw, the regicide, who once resided here.
It stands in the midst of tall elms, and looks as far
removed from political dissensions as may well be
imagined, its trim lawn and trellised walls overgrown
in summer by a tangle of greenery.

But suburban expansion has at last reached Tooke's
rural retreat from political strife, and the estate is
now " developed," with roads driven through and
streets of villas planned, leaving only the old house
and some few acres of gardens around it.

126

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

XIV

Returning to the main road, we come, just before
reaching Godstone Comer, to the. site of the now-
forgotten Foxley Hatch, a turnpike-gate, which stood
at this point until 1865. Paying toll here " cleared,"
or made the traveller free of, the gates and bars to
Merstham, on the main road, and as far as Wray
Common, on the Reigate route, as the following copy
of a contemporary turnpike-ticket shows :

Foxley Hatch Gate

R

clears Wray common. Gatton,

Merstham and Hooley lane,

gates and bars

" To Riddlesdown, the prettiest spot in Surrey,"
says a sign-post on the left hand. It is not true that
it is the prettiest place, but, of course (as the proverb
truly says), " every eye forms its own beauty," and
Riddlesdown is a Beanfeasters' Paradise, where tea-
gardens, swings, and I know not what temerarious
delights await the tripper who accepts the invita-
tion, boldly displayed, " Up the Steps for Home
Comforts."

Here an aged milestone, in addition, proclaims it
to be " XIII Miles from the Standard in Cornhill,
London, 1743," and "XII Miles From We/tmin/ter
Bridge," This is, doubtless, one of the stones referred
to in the London Evening Post of September 10th, 1743,

MILESTONES 127

which says : "On Wednesday they began to measure
the Croydon Road from the Standard in Cornhill and
stake the places for erecting milestones, the inhabitants
of Croydon having subscribed for 13, which 'tis
thought will be carried on by the Gentlemen of
Sussex."

I know nothing of what those Sussex gentlemen
did, but that the milestones were carried on is evident
enough to all who care to explore the old Brighton
Road through Godstone, up Tilburstow Hill, and so
on to East Grinstead, Uckfield, and Lewes, where this
fine bold series, dated 1744, is continued. What,
however, has become of the series so liberally provided
in 1743 by the " inhabitants of Croydon " ? What
indeed ? Only this one, the thirteenth, remains ; the
other twelve, marking the distance from the
" Standard " in Cornhill, in addition to Westminster
Bridge, have been spirited away, and their places have
been taken by others, themselves old, but chiefly
marking the mileage from Whitehall and the Royal
Exchange.

We all know that the Brighton Road is nowadays
measured from the south side of Westminster Bridge,
but it is not generally known — nor possibly known to
one person in every ten thousand of those who consider
they have worn the Brighton Road threadbare — that
it was measured from " Westminster Bridge " before
ever there was a bridge. No bridge existed across the
Thames anywhere between London Bridge and Putney
until November 10th, 1750, when Westminster Bridge,
after being for many years under construction, was
opened, superseding the ancient ferry which from
time immemorial had plied between Horseferry Stairs,
Westminster, and Stangate on the Surrey side, the
site of the present Lambeth Bridge. The way to
Brighton (and to all southern roads) lay across London
Bridge.

The old stones dated 1743 and 1744, and g'ving
the mileage from the bridge, were thus displaying
that " intelligent anticipation of events " which is,

128 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

perhaps, even more laudable in statesmen than in
milestones — and as rarely found.

To this day no man knoweth the distance between
London and Brighton. Conv^ention fixes the distance
as 51 ^ miles from the south side of Westminster Bridge
to the Aquarium, by the classic route ; but where is
he who has chained it in proper surveyorly manner ?
The milestones themselves are a curious miscellany,
and form an interesting study. They might profitably
have been made a subject for the learned deliberations
of the Pickwick Club, but the opportunity was
unfortunately missed, and the world is doubtless the
loser of much curious lore.

Where is he who can, offhand, describe the first
milestone on the Brighton Road, and tell where it
stands ? It ought to be no difficult matter, for miles
are not — or should not be — elastic.

It stands, in fact, on the kerb at the right-hand
side of Kennington Road, between Nos. 230 and 232,
just short of Lower Kennington Lane, and is a poor
old battered relic, set angle wise and with the top
broken away, bearing the legend, in what was once
bold lettering :

MILE

HORSEGUARDS
WHITEHALL

That is the first milestone on the Brighton Road.
Sterne, were he here to-day, would shed salt tears of
sentiment upon it, we may be sure. It says nothing
whatever about Brighton, and is probably the one and
only stone that takes the Horseguards as a datum.

About forty yards beyond this initial landmark
is another " first " milestone : a tall, upstanding
affair, certainly a century old, with three blank sides,
and a fourth inscribed :

MILESTONES 129

I
MILE

FROM

WESTMINSTER

BRIDGE

This is followed by a long series of stones of one
pattern, probably dating from 1800, marking every
half mile. The series starts with the stone on the
kerb close by the tramway office at the triangle,
where the Brixton Road begins. It records on two
sides " Royal Exchange 2^ miles," and on a third
" Whitehall 2 miles," and is followed, opposite No. 158,
Brixton Road, by a stone carrying on the tale by
another half a mile. These silent witnesses may be
traced nearly into Croydon, with sundry gaps where
they have been removed. Those recording the 4th,
6th, 8|th, 9^th, and 10th miles from Whitehall are
missing, the last of the series now extant being that
at the corner of Broad Green Avenue, making " White-
hall 9 miles. Royal Exchange 9| miles." The 10th
from Whitehall, ending the series, stood at the corner
of the Whitgift Hospital.

These were succeeded by one of the old eighteenth-
century series, marking eleven miles from Westminster
Bridge and twelve from the " Standard," but neither
new nor old stone is there now, and the only one of
the thirteen mentioned by the London Evening Post
of 1743 is this near Purley Corner.

This, marking the 13th mile from the " Standard "
and the 12th from Westminster Bridge is common to
both routes, but is followed by the first of a new
series some way along Smitham Bottom, on which
Brighton is for the first time mentioned :
I

130 THE^BRIGHTON ROAD

XIII

MILES

FROM

WESTMINSTER

BRIDGE

38i

MILES

TO

BRIGHTON

The character of the lettering and the general style
of this series would lead to the supposition that they
are dated about 1820. There are three stones in all
of this kind, the third marking 15 miles from West-
minster Bridge and 36| to Brighton, followed by a
series of triangular cast-iron marks, continued through
Redhill, of which the first bears the legend, " Parish
of Merstham." On the north side is " 16 from West-
minster Bridge, 35 to Brighton," and on the south
" 35 from Brighton, 16 to Westminster Bridge." It
will be observed that in this first one of a new series
half a mile is dropped, and henceforward the mileage
to Brighton becomes by authority 51 miles. Like
the confectioner who " didn't make ha'porths," the
turnpike trust which erected these mile-" stones "
refused to deal in half miles.

XV

The tramway terminus at Purley Corner is now a
busy place. Those are only the " old crocks " who
can remember the South Eastern railway-station of
Caterham Junction and the surrounding lonely downs ;
and to them the change to " Purley " and the
appearance in the wilderness of a mushroom town,
with its parade of brilliantly lighted shops, its Queen
Victoria memorial, its public garden and penny-squirt
fountain, and — not least — its hideous waterworks, are
things for wonderment. " How strange it seems, and
new," as Browning — not writing of Purley — remarks.

RAILWAY POLITICS 181

Even the ghastly loneliness of the long straight road
ascending the pass of Smitham Bottom is no more, for
little villas, with dank little dungeons of gardens, line
the way, and tradesmen's carts calling for orders
compete with the motorists who shall kill and maim
most travellers along the highway.

The numerous railway-bridges, embankments,
cuttings, and retaining-walls that disfigure the crest
of Smitham Bottom are chiefly the results of latter-
day activities. The first bridge is that of the Chipstead
Valley Railway — now merged in the South Eastern
and Chatham — from South Croydon to Chipstead and
Epsom, 1897 — 1900, with its wayside station of
" Smitham." This is immediately followed by the
London, Brighton, and South Coast's station of Stoat's
Nest, a transformed and transported version of the old
station of the same name some distance off, and beyond
it are the bridges and embankments of the same com-
pany's works of 1896-8 ; themselves almost inextricably
confused, to the non-technical mind, with the adjoining
South Eastern roadside station of Coulsdon.

The chapters of railway history which produced
all this unlovely medley of engineering works are in
themselves extremely interesting, and have an
additional interest to those who trace the story of the
Brighton Road, for they are concerned with the
solution of the old problem which faced the coach
proprietors — how best and quickest to reach Brighton.

Few outside those intimately concerned with railway
politics know that although the Brighton line was
opened throughout in 1842, it was not until 1898 that
the company owned an uninterrupted route between
London and Brighton. The explanation of that
singular condition of affairs is found in the curious
reluctance of Parliament, two generations ago, to
give any one railway company the sole control of any
particular route. Few in those times thought the
increase of population, and still more the increase
of travelling, would be so great that competitive
railways would be established to many places ;

132 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

and thus to sanction the making of a railway to be
owned by one company throughout seemed like the
granting of a perpetual monopoly.

Following this reasoning, a break was made in the
continuity of the Brighton Railway between Stoat's
Nest and Redhill, a distance of five miles, and that
stretch of territory given to the South Eastern Railway,
with running powers only over it granted to the
Brighton Company. Similarly, between Croydon and
Stoat's Nest, the South Eastern had only running
powers over that interval owned by the Brighton.

In 1892 and 1894, however, the Brighton Company
approached Parhament and, proving the growing
confusion, congestion, and loss of time at Redhill
Junction, owing to this odd condition of things,
obtained powers to complete that missing link by the
construction of an entirely new railway between
Stoat's Nest and a point just within a quarter of a
mile of Earlswood Station, beyond Redhill, and also
to double the existing line between East and South
Croydon and Purley. The works were completed and
opened for traffic in 1898, when for the first time the
Brighton Railway had a complete and uninterrupted
route of its own to the sea.

The hamlet of Smitham Bottom, which paradoxically
stands at the top of the pass of that name, in this
ancient way across the North Downs, can never have
been beautiful. It was lonely when Jackson and
Fewterel fought their prize-fight here, before that
distinguished patron of sport the Prince of Wales and
a more or less distinguished company, on June 9th,
1788 ; when the only edifice of " Smith-in-the-
Bottom," as the sporting accounts of that time style
it, appears to have been the ominous one of » gibbet.
The Jackson who that day fought, and won, his first
battle in the prize-ring was none other than that
Bayard of the noble art, " Gentleman Jackson," after-
wards the friend of Byron and of the Prince Regent
himself, and subsequently landlord of the " Cock " at
Sutton. On this occasion Maior Hanger rewarded

SMITHAM 188

the victor with a bank-note from the enthusiastic
Prince.

Until 1898 Smitham Bottom remained a fortuitous
concourse of some twenty mean houses on a wind-
swept natural platform, ghastly with the chalky
" spoil-banks " thrown up when the South Eastern
Railway engineers excavated the great cuttings in
1810 ; but when the three railway-stations within one
mile were established that serve Smitham Bottom —
the stations of Coulsdon, Stoat's Nest, and Smitham
— the place, very naturally, began to grow Avith the
magic quickness generally associated with Jonah's
Gourd and Jack's Beanstalk, and now Smitham
Bottom is a town. Most of the spoil-banks are gone,
and those that remain are planted with quick-growing
poplars ; so that, if they can survive the hungry soil,
there will presently be a leafy screen to the ugly
railway sidings. Showy shops, all plate-glass and
nightly glare of illumination, have arisen ; the old
" Red Lion " inn has got a new and very saucy front ;
and, altogether, " Smitham " has arrived. The second
half of the name is now in process of being forgotten,
and the only wonder is that the first part has not been
changed into " Smytheham " at the very least, or
that an entirely new name, something in the way of
" ville " or " park," suited to its prospects, has not
been coined. For Smitham, one can clearly see, has
a Future, with a capital F, and the historian confidently
expects to see the incorporation of Smitham, with
Mayor, Town Council, and Town Hall, all complete.

It is here, at Marrowfat, now " Marlpit," Lane, that
the new link of the Brighton line branches off from
Stoat's Nest.* One of the first trials of the engineers
was the removal of threequarters of a million cubic
yards of the "spoil," dumped down by the roadside
over half a century earlier ; and then followed the
spanning of the Brighton Road by a girder-bridge.
The line then entered the grounds of the Cane Hill

* The name derives from a farm so called, marked on a map of
1716 "Stotes Ne/8."

134 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Lunatic Asylum, through which it runs in a covered
way, the London County Council, under whose control
that institution is carried on, obtaining a clause in
the Company's Act, requiring the railway to be
covered in at this point, in case the lunatics might
find means of throwing themselves in front of passing
trains.

Leaving the asylum grounds, the railway re-crosses
the road by a hideous skew girder bridge of 180 feet
span, supported by giant piers and retaining- walls,
and then crosses the deep cutting of the South Eastern,
to enter a cutting of its own leading into a tunnel a
mile and a quarter in length — the new Merstham
tunnel — running parallel with the old tunnel of the
same name through which the South Eastern Railway
passes. At the southern end of this gloomy tunnel is
the pretty village of Merstham, where the hillside
sinks down to the level lands between that point and
Redhill.

At Merstham one of the odd problems of the new
line was reached, for there it had to be constructed
over a network of ancient tunnels made centuries
ago in the hillside — quarry- tunnels whence came much
of the limestone that went towards the building of
Henry VIL's Chapel at Westminster Abbey. The
old workings are still accessible to the explorer who
dares the accumulation of gas in them given off by
the limestone rock.

The geology of these five miles of new railway
is peculiarly varied, limestone and chalk giving place
suddenly to the gault of the levels, and followed again
by a hillside bed of Fuller's earth, succeeded in turn
by red sand. The Fuller's earth, resting upon a
slippery substratum of gault, only required a little
rain and a little disturbance to slide down and over-
whelm the railway works, and retaining-walls of the
heaviest and most substantial kind were necessary
in the cuttings where it occurred. TunneUing for a
quarter of a mile through the sand that gives Redhill
its name, the railway crosses obliquely under the South

136 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Eastern, and then joins the old Brighton line territory
just before reaching Earlswood station.

All these engineering manifestations give the old
grim neighbourhood of Smitham Bottom a new
grimness. The trains of the Brighton line boom,
rattle, and clank overhead into the covered way,
whose ventilators spout steam like some infernal
laundry, and from the 80-foot deep cuttings close
beside the road, steamy billows arise very weirdly.
Presiding over all are the beautiful grounds and vast
ranges of buildings of the Cane Hill Lunatic Asylum,
housing an ever-increasing population of lunatics,
now numbering some three thousand. Sometimes the
quieter members of that unfortunate community are
seen, being given a walk along the road, outside their
bounds, and the sight and the thoughts they engender
are not cheering.

Along the road, where the walls of the cutting
descend perpendicularly, is the severely common-
place hamlet of Hooley, formerly Howleigh, consisting
of the " Star " inn and some twenty square brick
cottages. Just beyond it, where a modern Cyclists'
Rest and tea-rooms building stands to the left of the
road, the first traces of the old Surrey Iron Railway,
which crossed the highway here, are found, in the
shallower cutting, still noticeable, although disused
seventy years ago. Alders, hazels, and blackberry
brambles grow on the side of it, and its bridges are
ivy-grown : primroses and violets, too, grow there
wondrously profuse.

And here we will, by way of interlude, turn aside,
up a lane to the right hand, toward the village of
Chipstead, in whose churchyard lies Sir Edward
Banks, who began life in the humblest manner,
working as a navvy upon this same forgotten railway,
afterwards rising, as partner in the firm of Jolliffe &
Banks, to be an employer of labour and contractor
to the Government : in short, another Tom Brassey.
All these things are recorded of him upon a memorial
tablet in the church of Chipstead — a tablet which

CHIPSTEAD 187

lets nothing of his worth escape you, so prolix
is it.*

It was while delving amid the chalk of this tramway
cutting that Edward Banks first became acquainted
with this village, and so charmed with it was he that
he expressed a desire, when his time should come, to
be laid at rest in its quiet graveyard. When he died,
after a singularly successful career, his wish was
carried out, and here, in this quiet spot overlooking
the highway, you may see his handsome tomb, begirt
with iron railings, and overshadowed with ancient
trees.

The little church of Chipstead is of Norman origin,
and still shows some interesting features of that period,
with some unusual Early English additions that have
presented architectural puzzles even to the minds of
experts. Many years ago the late Mr. G. E. Street,
the architect of the present Royal Courts of Justice
in London, read a paper upon this building, advancing
the theory that the curious pedimental windows of
the chancel and the transept door were not the Saxon
work they appeared to be, but were the creation of
an architect of the Early English period who had
a fancy for reviving Saxon features, and who was the
builder and designer of a series of Surrey churches,
among which is included that of Merstham.

* " Sir Edward Banks, Knight, of Sheerness, Isle of Sheppey, and
Adelphi Terrace, Strand, Middlesex, whose remains are deposited
in the family vault in this churchyard. Blessed by Divine Providence
with an honest heart, a clear head, and an extraordinary degree of
perseverance, he rose superior to all difficulties, and was the founder
of his own fortune ; and although of self-cultivated talent, he in
early life became contractor for public works, and was actively and
successfully engaged during forty years in the execution of some of
the most useful, extensive, and splendid works of his time ; amongst
which may be mentioned the Waterloo, Southwark, London, and
Staines Bridges over the Thames, the Naval Works at Sheerness
Dockyard, and the new channels for the rivers Ouse, Nene, and
Witham in Norfolk and Lincolnshire. He was eminently
distinguished for the simplicity of his manners and the benevolence
of his heart ; respected for his inflexible integrity and his pure and
unaffected piety ; in all the relations of his life he was candid,
diligent, and humane ; just in purpose, firm in execution ; his
liberality and indulgence to his numerous coadjutors were alone
equalled by his generosity and charity displayed in the disposal of
his honourably-acquired wealth. He departed this life at Tilgate,
Sussex ... on the 5th day of July, 1835, in the sixty -sixth year
of his age."

138 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Within the belfry here is a ring of fine bells, some
of them of a respectable age, and three bearing the
inscription, with variations :

" OUR HOPE IS IN THE LORD, 1595."

R <}fp £

From here a bye-lane leads steeply once more into
the high road, which winds along the valley, sloping
always towards the Weald. Down the long descent
into Merstham village tall and close battalions of fir-
trees lend a sombre colouring to the foreground,
while " southward o'er Surrey's pleasant hills " the
evening sunlight streams in parting radiance. On the
left hand as we descend are the eerie-looking blow-
holes of the Merstham tunnel, which here succeeds the
cutting. Great heaps of chalk, by this time partly
overgrown with grass, also mark its course, and in the
distance, crowned as many of them are with telegraph
poles, they look by twilight curiously and awfully
like so many Calvarys.

Beside the descent into Merstham was situated
the terminus of the old Iron Railway, in the great
excavated hollow of the Greystone lime-works, where
the lime-burners still quarry the limestone and the
smoke of their burning ascends day and night. The
old " Hylton Arms," down below, that served the
turn of the lime-burners when they wanted to slake
their thirst, has been ornately rebuilt in the modern-
Elizabethan Public House Style, alongside the road,
to catch the custom of the world at large, and is
named the " Jolliffe Arms." Both signs reflect the
ownership of Merstham, for Jolliffe has long been
the family name of the holders of the modern Barony
of Hylton. Formerly " Jolly," it was presumably
too bacchanalian and not sufficiently aristocratic, and
so it was changed, just as your " Smythe " was once
Smith, and " Johnes " Jones.

MERSTHAM
XVI

139

Merstham is as pretty a village as Surrey affords,
and typically English. Railways have not abated,
nor these turbid times altered in any great measure,
its fine air of aristocratic and old-time rusticity. At
one end of its one clearly-defined street, set at an angle
to the high-road, are the great ornamental gates of

MERSTHAM.

Merstham Park, setting their stamp of landed
aristocracy upon the place. To their right is a tiny
gate leading to the public right-of-way through the
park, which presently crosses over the pond where
rise fitfully the springs of Merstham Brook, a congener
of the Kentish " Nailbournes," and one of the many
sources of the River Mole. To the marshy ground by
this brook, and to its stone-quarries, the place owes

140 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

its name. It was in Domesday Book " Merstan " =
Mere-stan, the stone (house) by the lake.

Beyond the brook, above the tall trees, is seen the
shingled spire of the church, an Early English building
dedicated to St. Catherine, not yet spoiled, despite
restorations and the scraping which its original lancet
windows have undergone, in misguided efforts to
endue them with an air of modernity.

The church is built of that limestone or " fire-
stone " found so freely in the neighbourhood — a famed
speciality wliich entered largely into the building and
ornamentation of Henry the Seventh's Chapel at
Westminster. Those wondrously intricate and
involved carvings and traceries, whose decadent
Gothic delicacy is the despair of present-day architects
and stone-carvers, were possible only in this stone,
which, when quarried, is of exceeding softness, but
afterwards, on exposure to the air, assumes a hardness
equalling that of any ordinary building-stone, and has,
in addition, the merit of resisting fire, whence its
name. From the softer layers comes that article of
domestic use, the " hearthstone," used to whiten
London hearths and doorsteps.

Merstham Church is even yet 'of considerable
interest. It contains brasses to the Newdegate, Best,
and Elmebrygge families, one recording in black letter ;

" Hie mtt goJ^isiCImfbrgggt, anaiger, qui obiit biij lit
fffftruarij ^° giii '^°cccc°lm'i, tt ^inhtlh iwor Jtius
qnzt fuit filia ^ir^i l^amgs quonira ^aioris ft
^I&jermaS Jonboit : qnut obiit tjij° l)u Sitgitvabtii
^° iiii gp;°rajc°l3f3Etj° tt ^nnst uxor ti : quat
fuit filia ^ops ^ropl^ttje <5fntilman quaf obiit , , ,
gi° gni |5^°rrjc°. . , . qworii animabua
j^pimtur gt«»."

The date of the second wife's death has never been
inserted, showing that the brass was engraved and set
during her lifetime, as in so many other examples of
monumental brasses throughout the country. The

GATTON 141

figure of John Elmebrygge is wanting, it having been
at some time torn from its matrix, but above his
figure'? indent remains a label inscribed Sancta
Trinitas, and from the mouths of the remaining figures
issue labels inscribed Umis Deus — Miserere nobis.
Beneath is a group of seven daughters ; the group of
four sons is long since lost.

A transitional Norman font of grey Sussex marble
remains at the western end of the church, and on an
altar-tomb in the southern chapel are the poor remains
of an ancient stone figure of the fifteenth century,
presumably the effigy of a merchant civilian, as he is
represented wearing the gypciere. It is hacked out
of almost all significance at the hands of some
iconoclasts ; their chisel-marks are even now distinct
and bear witness against the Puritan rage that defaced
and buried it face downwards, the reverse side of the
stone forming part of the chapel pavement until
1861, when it was discovered during the restoration
of the church.

Before that restoration this was an interior of
Georgian high pews. Among them the " squire's
parlour " was pre-eminent, with its fireplace, its well-
carpeted floor, its chairs and tables ; a snuggery
wherein that good man snored unobserved, or partook
critically of his snuff during the parson's discreet
discourse. But now the parlour is gone, and the
squire must slumber, if he can, with the other sinners.

In Merstham village, just beyond the " Feathers "
inn, stood Merstham toll-gate, followed by that of
Gatton, at Gatton Point, a mile distant, where the old
route through Reigate goes off to the right, and the
new — the seven miles between Gatton Point and Povey
Cross, through Redhill — continues, straight as an
arrow, ahead. The way is bordered on the right hand
by Gatton Park, a spot the country folk rightly
describe as an " old arnshunt place." The history of
Gatton, in truth, goes back to immemorial times, and
has no beginning : for where history thins out and
becomes a mere scatter of disjointed scraps purporting

142 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

to be facts, tradition carries back the tale into a very
fog of legend and conjecture. It was " Gatone "
when the Domesday survey was made : the Saxon
" Geat-ton," the town in the " gate," passage, or road
through the North Downs, just as Reigate is the
Saxon " Rige-geat," the road over the ridge. The
" ton " or town in the place-name does not necessarily
mean what we moderns would understand by the word,
and here doubtless indicated an enclosed, hedged, or
walled-in tract of land redeemed and cultivated out
of the then encompassing wilderness of the Downs.

Who first broke the land of Gatton to the plough ?
History and tradition are silent. No voice speaks out
of the grave of the centuries. But both Reigate and
Gatton are older than Anglo-Saxon times, for a Roman
way, itself following the course of an even earlier
savage trail, came up out of the stodgy clay of
Holmesdale, over the chalky hills, to Streatham and
London. It was a branch of the road leading from
Partus Adurni — the present Old Shoreham, on the
river Adur — and doubtless, in the long centuries of
Romano-British civilisation, it was bordered here and
there by settlements and villas. Prominent among
them was Gatton. There can scarcely be a doubt of
it, for, although Roman relics are not found here now,
Camden, writing in the time of Henry the Eighth,
tells of " Roman Coynes digged forth of the Ground."
It was ever a desirable site, for here unfailing springs
well out of the chalk and give an abounding fertility,
while another road — the ancient Pilgrims' Way —
running west and east, crossed the other highway, and
thus gave ready communication on every side.

Gatton has, within the historic period, never been
more than a manorial park, but an unexplained
something, like the echo of a vanished greatness, has
caused strangely unmerited honours to be granted it.
Who shall say what induced Henry the Sixth in 1451
to make this mere country park a Parliamentary
borough, returning two members ? There must have
been some adequate reason or excuse, even if only

THE ROTTEN BOROUGH 143

the one of its ancient renown ; for there must always
be an apology of sorts for corruption ; no job is jobbed
without at least some shadowy semblance of legality.
But no one will ever pluck out the heart of its mystery.

A Parliamentary borough Gatton remained until
1832, when the first Reform Act swept away the
representation of it, together with that of many
another " rotten borough." Rightly had Cobbett
termed it " a very rascally spot of earth," for certainly
from 1541, when Sir Roger Copley owned the property
and was the sole elector of the place, the election was
a scandalous farce, and never at any time did the
" burgesses " exceed twenty. They were always
tenants of the lord of the manor and the mere
marionettes that danced to his will.

Gatton, returning its two members to Parliament,
as of old, was early in the nineteenth century purchased
by Mark Wood, Esq., who was soon after created a
Baronet. It was then recorded that in this borough
there were six houses and only one freeholder : Sir
Mark Wood himself. The other five houses he let by
the week ; and thus, paying the taxes, he was the only
elector of the two representatives. At the election,
he and his son Mark were the candidates, and the
father duly elected himself and his son ! Scandalous,
no doubt ; but those members must have represented
the constituency better than could those of a larger
electorate.

The landowner who possessed such a pocket-borough
as this, and could send whomsoever he liked to
Parliament, to vote as he wished, was, of course, a
very important personage. His opposition was a
serious matter to Governments ; his support of the
highest value, both politically and in a pecuniary
sense ; and thus place, honours, riches, could be, and
were, secured. The manor of Gatton actually, in the
cynical recognition of these things, was valued at
twice its worth without that Parliamentary representa-
tion, and Lord Monson, who purchased the property
in 1830, gave as much as £100,000 for it, solely as an

144

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

investment in jobbery and corruption, by which he
hoped, in the course of shrewd poHtical wire-pulHng,
to obtain a cent per cent return.

He was a humorist of a cynical turn who built in
front of the great mansion in midst of the park a
" Town Hall " for the non-existent town, and inscribed

GATTON HALL AND

TOWN HALL."

on the urn which stands by this freakish, temple-like
structure the motto, satirical in this setting, " Salus
populi suprema lex esto" together with other sardonic
Latin, to the effect that no votes sullied by bribery
should be given.

MUSTARD 145

Less than two years after Lord Monson's purchase
of the estate, Reform had destroyed the value of
Gatton Park, for it was disfranchised. We can only
wonder that he did not claim compensation for the
abolition of his " vested interests."

There is a remarkable appropriateness in Gatton
Hall being designed in the classic style, for its marble
hall and Corinthian hexastyle colonnade no doubt
revive the glories of the Roman villa of sixteen hundred
years ago. It is magnificence itself, being indeed
designed something after the manner of the Vatican
at Rome, and decorated with rare and costly marbles
and frescoes ; but perhaps, to any one less than an
emperor or a pope, a little unhomely and uncomfortable
to live in. Since 1888 it has been the seat of Sir
Jeremiah Colman, of Colman's2_Mustard, created a
Baronet, 1907 :

Mother, get it if you're able.
See the trade mark on the label,
Colman 's Mustard is the Beet— [Ad vt.],

as some unlaurelled bard of the grocery trade once
sang, in deathless verse.

XVII

Half a mile short of what is now Redhill town, there
once stood yet another toll-gate. " Frenches " Gate
took its title from the old manor on which it stood, and
the manor itself probably derived its name from the
unenclosed or free (franche) land of which it was
wholly or largely composed.

Redhill town has not existed long enough to have
accumulated any history. When the more direct
route was made this way, avoiding Reigate, in 1816,
Redhill was — a hill. The hill is still here, as the
cyclist well enough knows, and we will take on trust
that red gravel whence its name comes ; but since
K

146 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

that time the town of Redliill, now numbering some
16,000 persons, has come into existence, and when we
speak of Redhill we mean — not the height up which
the coaches laboured, but a certain commonplace town
lying at the foot of it, with a busy railway junction
where there are always plenty of trains, but never the
one you want, and quite a number of public institutions
of the asylum and reformatory type.

The railway junction has, of course, created Redhill
town, which is really in the parish of Reigate. When
the land began to be built upon, in the '40's, it was
called "Warwick Town," after the then Countess of
Warwick, the landowner, and the names of a road and
a public-house still bear witness to that somewhat
lickspittle method of nomenclature. But there is,
and can be, only one possible Warwick in England,
and "Redhill" this "Warwick Town," by natural
selection, became.

There could have been no more certain method of
inviting the most odious of comparisons than that of
naming Redhill after the fine old feudal town of
Warwick, which first arose beneath the protecting
walls of its ancient castle. Either town has an origin
typical of its era, and both look their history and
circumstances. Redhill, within the memory of those
still living, sprang up around a railway platform, and
the only object that may be said to frown in it is the
great gas-holder, built on absolutely the most prominent
and desirable site in the whole "town ; and that not
only frowns, but stinks as well, and is therefore not a
desirable substitute for a castle keep. Here, at any
rate, " Mrs. Partington's " remark that " comparisons
is odorous " would be altogether in order.

Prominent above all other buildings in the town,
in the backward view from that godfatherly hill, is
the huge St. Anne's Asylum, housing between four and
five hundred children of the poor.

" The Cutting " through the brow of the hill,
enclosed on either side by high brick walls, leads
presently upon Redhill and Earlswood Commons,

EARLSWOOD 147

where movement is unrestrained and free as air, and
the vision is bounded only by Leith Hill in one direction
and the blue haze of distance in another.

It is Holmesdale — the vale of holms, or oak woods —
upon which you gaze from here ; that

» Vale of Holniesdall

Never woune, ne never shall,

as the braggart old couplet has it, in allusion to the
defeat and slaughter of the invading Danes at Ockley
A.D. 851.

In one of its periodic funks, the War Office, terrified
for the safety of London more than for that of
Holmesdale, purchased land on this hill-top for the
erection of a fort, and — in a burst of confidence — sold
it again. The time is probably near when the War
Office, like another " Sister Anne," will " see somebody
coming," when this or another site will be re-purchased
at a much enhanced, or scare, price.

Earlswood Common is a welcome change after
Redhill. It gives sensations of elbow-room, of freedom
and vastness, not so much from its own size as from
the expanse of that view across the Weald of Surrey
and Sussex. The road across Earlswood Common is
an almost perfect " switchback," as the cyclist who is
not met with a southerly wind will discover. You can
see it from this view-point, going undulating away
until in the dim woody perspective it seems to
end in some tangled and trackless forest, so
densely grown do the trees look from this
distance.

It was here, at a wayside inn, that the present
historian fell in with a Sussex peasant of the ancient
and vanishing kind.

He was drinking from a tankard of the pea-soup
which they call ale in these parts, sitting the while
upon a bench whose like is usually found outside old
country inns. Ruddy of face, with clean-shaven lips
and chin, his grizzled beard kept rigidly upon his
wrinkled dewlap, his hands gnarled and twisted with

148

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

toil and rheumatism, he sat there in smock-frock and
gaiters, as typical a countryman as ever on London
stage brought the scent of the hay across the foothghts.
That smock of his, the " round frock " of Sussex
parlance, was worked about the yoke of it, fore and
aft, with many and curious devices, whose patterns,
though he, and she who worked them, knew it not,
derived from centuries of tradition and precept, had
been handed down from Saxon times, aye, and before

THE SWITCHBACK EGAD, EARLSWOOD COMMON.

them, to the present day, when, their significance lost,
they excite merely a mild wonder at their oddity and
complication.

He was, it seemed, a " hedger and ditcher," and his
leathern gauntlets and billhook lay beside him on the
ale-house bench.

" IVe worked at this sort o' thing," said he, in
conversation, " for the last twenty year. Hard work ?
yes, onaccountable hard, and small pay for't too.

THUNDERFIELD CASTLE 149

Two and twopence a day I gets, an' works from seven
o'marnings to half-past five in the afternoon for that.
You'll be gettin' more than two and twopence a day
when you're at work, I reckon."

To evade that remark by an opinion that a country
life was preferable to existence in a town was easy. The
old man agreed with the proposition, for he had visited
London, and " a dirty place it was, sure-ly." Also he
had been atop of the Monument, to the Tower, and to
the resort he called " Madame Two Swords " : places
that Londoners generally leave to provincials. Thus,
the country cousin within our gates is more learned in
the stock sights of town than townsfolk themselves.

From here the road slopes gently to the Weald past
Petridge Wood and Salfords, where a tributary of the
Mole crosses, and where the last turnpike-gate was
abolished, with cheers and a hip-hip-hooray, at the
midnight of October 31st, 1881.

At Horley, the left-hand road, forming an alternative
way to Brighton by Worth, Balcombe, and Wivelsfield,
touches the outskirts of Thunderfield Castle.

Thunderfield Castle should — if tremendous names
go for aught — be a stupendous keep of the Torquilstone
type, but it is, sad to say, nothing of the kind, being
merely a flat circular grassy space, approached over
the Mole and doubly islanded by two concentric moats.
It stands upon the estate of Harrowslea — ^" Harsley,"
as the countryfolk call it — supposed to have once
belonged to King Harold.

There seems to be no doubt whatever that the
Anglo-Saxons did name the place after the god Thunor.
It was known by that name in the time of Alfred the
Great, but no one knows what it was like then ; nor,
for that matter, what the appearance of it was when
the Norman de Clares owned it. It seems never to
have been a castle built of stone, but an adaptation of
the primitive savage idea of surrounding a position
with water and palisading it. Thunderfield was a
veritable stronghold of the woods and bogs, and the
defenders of it were like Hereward the Wake, who

150

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

could often remain a " passive resister " and see the
invaders struggling with the sloughs, the odds over-
whelmingly in favour of the forces of nature.

The history of Thunderfield will never be written, but
if a guess may be hazarded, the final catastrophe, which

THUNDERFIELD CASTLE.

was the prime cause of the half-burnt timbers and the
many human remains discovered here long ago, was a
storming of the place by the forces of the neighbouring

152 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

de Warennes, ancient and bitter enemies of the de
Clares ; probably in the wars of the twelfth century,
between King Stephen and the Empress Maud,

It is an eminently undesirable situation for a
residence, however suitable it may have been for
defence ; and the Saxons who occupied it must
have known what rheumatism is. Dark woods
now enclose the place, and cluttering wildfowl form
its garrison.

The " Chequers " at Horley is not quite half way
to Brighton, but in default of another it is the half-
way house. Its name derives from the old chequy,
or chessboard, arms of the Earls of Warren, chequered
in gold and blue. They were not only great personages
in this vale, but enjoyed in mediaeval times the right
of licensing ale-houses : hence the many " Chequers "
throughout the country. The newer portions of the
house are typically suburban, but the old-world front,
with its quaint portico, the whole shaded by a group
of ancient oaks, remains untouched.

Horley — the " Hurle " of old maps — is very
scattered : a piece here, another there, and the parish
church standing isolated at the extreme southern end
of the wide parish. It is situated on an extensive
flat, reeking like a sponge with the waters of the Mole,
but, although so entirely undesirable a place, is under
exploitation for building purposes. A stranger first
arriving at Horley late at night, and seeing its long
lines of lighted streets radiating in several directions,
would think he had come to a town ; but morning
would show him that long perspectives of gas-lamps
do not necessarily mean houses to correspond.
Evidently those responsible for the lamps expect a
coming expansion of Horley ; but that expectation
is not very likely to be realised.

Much of Horley belongs to Christ's Hospital, which
is said to be under obligation to educate two children
of poor widows, in return for the great tithes long
since bequeathed to it, and is additionally accused
of having consistently betrayed that trust.

1 '*''''^ ^Mi

A

tK

c .

154 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

The parish church, chiefly of the Early EngHsh and
Decorated periods of Gothic architecture, contains some
brasses and a poor old stone efBgy of a bygone lord of
the manor, broken-nosed and chipped, but not without
its interest. The double-headed eagle on his shield is
still prominent, and the crowded detail of his mailed
armour and the lacings of his surcoat are as distinct as
when sculptured six centuries ago. He wears the little
misericorde, or dagger, at his belt, the " merciful "
instrument with which gentle knights finished off their
wounded enemies in the chivalric days of old.

Many years ago some person unknown stole the old
churchwardens' account-book, dating from the
sixteenth century. After many wanderings in the
land, it was at length purchased at a second-hand
bookseller's and presented to the British Museum, in
which mausoleum of literature, in the Department of
Manuscripts, it is now to be found. It contains a
curious item, showing that even in the rigid times that
produced the great Puritan upheaval, congregations
were not unapt for irreverence. Thus in 1632 " John
Ansty is chosen by the consent of y® minister and
parishioners to see y* y® younge men and boyes behave
themselves decently in y® church in time of divine
service and sermon, and he is to have for his
paines ij«-"

The nearest neighbour to the church is the almost
equa y ancient " Six Bells " inn, which took its title
from the ring of bells in the church tower. Since 1839,
however, when two bells were added, there have been
eight in the belfry.

The stranger, foregathering with the rustics at the
" Six Bells," and missing the old houses that once stood
near the church and have been replaced by new, very
quickly has his regrets for them cut short by those
matter-of-fact villagers, who declare that " ye wooden
tark so ef ye had to live in un." A typical rustic had
" comic brown-titus " acquired in one of those damp old
cottages, and has " felt funny " ever since. One with
difficulty resisted the suggestion that, if he could be as

MITCHAM COMMON 155

funny as he felt, he should ^et up for a humorist, and
oust some of the dull dogs who pose as jesters.

Opposite Horley church is Gatwick Park, since 1892
converted into a racecourse, with a railway station of
its own. Less than a mile below it, at Povey Cross,
the Sutton and Reigate route to Brighton joins the
main road.

XVIII

The Sutton and Reigate route to Brighton, instead
of branching off along the Brixton Road, pursues a
straight undeviating course down the Clapham Road,
through Balham and Upper and Lower Tooting,
where it turns sharply to the left at the Broadway,
and in half a mile right again, at Amen Corner. Thence
it goes, by Figg's Marsh and Mitcham, to Sutton.

It is not before Mitcham is reached that, in these
latter days, the pilgrim is conscious of travelling the
road to anywhere at all. It is all modern " street " —
and streets, to this commentator at least, have a strong
resemblance to rows of dog-kennels. They are places
where citizens live on the chain. They lack the charm
of obviously leading elsewhere : and even although
electric tramcars speed multitudinously along them, to
some near or distant terminus, they do but arrive there
at other streets.

Mitcham is at present beyond these brick and
mortar tentacles, and is grouped not unpicturesquely
about a village green and along the road to the Wandle.
Pleasant, ruddy-faced seventeenth and eighteenth-
century mansions look upon that green, notable in the
early days of Surrey cricket ; and away at the further
end of it is the vast flat of Mitcham Common, that
dreary, long-drawn expanse which is at once the best
illustration of eternity and of a Shakespearian " blasted
heath " that can readily be thought of.

" Mitcham lavender " brings fragrant memories,
and indeed the only thing that serves to render the

156 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

weary length of Mitcham Common at all endurable is
the scent of it, borne on the breeze from the distillery,
midway across : the distillery that no one would
remember to be Jakson's, except for the eccentricity
of spelling the name.

This by the way ; for one does not cross Mitcham
Common to reach Sutton. But there is, altogether,
a sweet savour pervading Mitcham, a scent of flowers
that will not be spoiled even by the linoleum works,
which are apt to be offensive ; for Mitcham is still a
place where those sweet-smelling and other " economic "
plants, lavender, mint, chamomile, aniseed, pepper-
mint, rosemary, and liquorice, are grown for distillation.
The place owes this distinction to no mere chance, but
to its peculiar black mould, found to be exceptionally
suited to this culture.

Folk-rhymes are often uncomplimentary, and that
which praises Sutton for its mutton and Cheam for
juicy beef, is more severe than one cares to quote on
Epsom ; and, altogether ignoring the mingled
fragrances of Mitcham, declares it the place " for a
thief." We need not, however, take the matter
seriously : the rhymester was only at his wit's end for
a rhyme to " beef."

Mitcham station, beside the road, is a curious
example of what a railway company can do in its
rare moments of economy ; for it is an early nineteenth-
century villa converted to railway purposes by the
process of cutting a hole through the centre. It is a
sore puzzle to a stranger in a hurry.

From Mitcham one ascends a hill past the woodland
estate of Ravensbury, crossing the abundantly-
exploited Wandle ; and then, along a still rural road,
to the modern town of Sutton.

On the fringe of that town, at the discreet
" residential " suburb of Benhilton, is a scenic surprise
in the way of a deep cutting in the hilly road. Spanned
by a footbridge, graced with trees, and neighboured
by the old " Angel " inn, " Angel Bridge," as it is
called, is a pretty spot. The rise thus cut through was

SUTTON 159

once known as Been Hill, and on that basis was
fantastically reared the name of Benhilton. One
cannot but admire the ingenuity of it.

" Sutton for mutton " : so ran the old-time rhyme.
The reason of that ancient repute is found in the
downs in whose lap the place is situated ; those thy my
downs that afforded such splendid pasturage for sheep.
Sutton Common is gone, enclosed in 1810, but the downs
remain ; and yet that rhyme has lost its reason, and
Sutton is no longer celebrated for anything above its
fellow towns. Even the famous " Cock " is gone —
that old coaching-inn kept by the ex-pugilist, " Gentle-
man Jackson." Long threatened, it was at last
demolished in 1898, and with the old house went the
equally famous sign that straddled across the road.
The similar sign of the " Greyhound " still remains ;
the last relic of narrower streets and times more
spacious.

Leaving Sutton " town," as we call it nowadays,
the road proceeds to climb steadily uphill to the
modern suburb of " Belmont," where stands an old,
but very well cared-for, milestone setting forth that
it is distant " XIII. miles from the Standard in
Cornhill, London, 1745," from the Royal Exchange the
same distance, and from Whitehall twelve miles and
a half. The neighbourhood is now particularly
respectable, but I grieve to say that the spot is marked
on the maps of 1796 as " Little Hell," which seems to
indicate that the character of the people living in the
three houses apparently then standing here would not
bear close inspection. With the " Angel " placed at
one end, and this vestibule into Inferno situated at
the other, Sutton seems to have been accorded
exceptional privileges.

" Cold Blow," which succeeds to Little Hell, is a
tremendous transition, and well deserves its name,
perched as it is on the shivery, bare, and windy heights
that lead to Burgh Heath and Banstead Downs
" famous," says an annotated map of 1716, " for its
wholesome Air, once prescribed by Physicians as the

160 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Patients' last refuge." The feudal-looking wrought-
iron gates newly built beside the road here, surmounted
by a gorgeous shield of arms crested with a helmet and
enveloped in mantling, form the entrance to Nork
Park, the seat of one of the Column family, who have
mustered very strongly in Surrey of late years.

At the right-hand turning, in midst of a group of
fir-trees, stands the prehistoric tumulus known to the
rustics as "Tumble Beacon." " Tumble" is probably
the rural version of " tumulus."

Beyond this point, on a site now occupied by a
cottage, stood the once-famed " Tangier " inn.
Originally a private residence, the seat of Admiral
Buckle,* who named it " Tangier," in memory of his
cruises on the north coast of Africa, it became a house
of call for coaches, and especially for post-chaises.
Here, we are told, George the Fourth invariably halted
for a glass of Miss Jeal's celebrated " alderbury " —
that is to say elderberry-wine — " roking hot," to keep
out the piercing cold, and Miss Jeal brought it forth
with her own fair hands. Other travellers, who were
merely persons, and not personages, had to be content
with the less fair hands of the waiter.

The " Tangier " was burnt down about 1874. For
some years after its destruction a platform that led
from the house to the roadside, on a level with the
floors of the coaches and post-chaises, survived ; but
only the cellars now remain. The woods at the back
are, however, still locally known as " Tangier Woods."

Bupgh Heath, at the summit of these downs, is a
curious place called usually " Borough " Heath : it
is in Domesday " Berge." As its name not obscurely
hints, and the half-obliterated barrows show, it is a
place of ancient habitation and sepulture ; but
nowadays it is chiefly remarkable for the descendants
of the original squatters of about a century ago, who,
braving the cold of these heights, settled on what was
then an exceedingly lonely heath and stole whatever

• Matthew Buckle, Admiral of the Blue ; born 1716, died 1784.

RUSSELL OF KILLOWEN 161

land they pleased. That was the origin of the hamlet
of Burgh Heath. The descendants of those filibusters
have in most cases rebuilt the original hovels, but it
is still a somewhat forlorn place, made sordid by the
tumbledown pigsties and sheds on the heath in which
they have acquired a prescriptive freehold.

Passing Lion Bottom, or Wilderness Bottom, we
come to Tad worth Corner, past the grounds of Tadworth
Court, late the seat of Lord Russell of Killowen, better
known as Sir Charles Russell. He was created a
Baron in 1894, on his becoming Lord Chief Justice ;
but the title was — at his own desire — limited to a
life-peerage, and consequently at his death in 1900
became extinct. At Tadworth, in the horsey
neighbourhood of Epsom, he was as much at home as
in the Law Courts, and neither so judicial nor restrained,
as those who remember his peppery temper and the
objurgatory language of his " Here, you. where the

are you coming to, you ,

you ! " will admit. There seems, in fact, an especial
fitness in his residence on this Regency Road, for his
speech was the speech rather of that, than of the more
mealy mouthed Victorian, period.

At Tadworth Court, where the ways divide, and a
most picturesque view of long roads, dark fir trees,
and a weird-looking windmill unfolds itself, formerly
stood a toll-gate. A signpost directs on the right to
Headley and Walton, and on the left to Reigate and
Redhill, and a battered milestone which no one can
read stands at the foot of it. The church spire on
the left is that of Kingswood.

From London to Reigate, through Sutton, is,
according to Cobbett, " about as villainous a tract as
England contains. The soil is a mixture of gravel and
clay, with big yellow stones in it, sure sign of really
bad land." The greater part of this is, of course, now
covered by the suburbs of " the Wen," as Cobbett
delighted to style London ; and it is both unknown to
and immaterial to most people what manner of soil
their houses are built on ; but the truth of Cobbett's

162 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

observations is seen readily enough here, on these
warrens, which owe their preservation as open spaces
to that mixture, worthless to the farmer, and not
worth the steaUng in those times when land could
be stolen with impunity.

Past the modern village of Kings wood, almost lost
in, and certainly entirely overshadowed by, the wild
heaths of Walton and Kingswood Warren the road
comes at last to Reigate Hill, where, immediately past
the suspension bridge that overhangs the cutting, it
tilts very suddenly and alarmingly over the edge of
the Downs. The suddenness of it makes the stranger

KINGSWOOD WARREN.

gasp with iistonishment ; the beauty of that wonderful
view from this very rim and edge of the hills compels
his admiration. It is the climax up to which he has
been toiling all these long, ascending gradients from
Sutton ; and it is worth the toil.

The old writers of road-books do more justice to
this view than any modern writer dare. To them it
was " a remarkably bold elevation, from whence is a
delightful prospect of the South Downs in Sussex.
But near the road, which is scooped out of the hill,

REIGATE HILL

168

the declivity is so steep and abrupt that the spectator
cannot help being struck with terror, though softened
by admiration. The Sublime and the Beautiful are
here perfectly united ; imagination is fully exercised,
and the mind delighted."

How would this person have described the Alps ?

A milestone just short of this drop — one of a series
starting at Sutton Downs and dealing in fractions of
miles — says, very curtly : " London 19, Sutton 8,
Brighton 32f, Reigate If."

""^sS — !*

THE SUSPENSION BRIDGE, REIGATE HILL.

The suspension bridge, carried overhead, spanning
the cutting made through the crest of the hill, is
known to the rustics — who will always invent simple
English words of one syllable, whenever possible, to
take the place of difficult three-syllabled words of
Latin extraction— as the " Chain Pier." It does not,
as almost invariably is the case with these bridges,
connect two portions of an estate severed by the cutting,

164 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

but forms part of a public path which was cut through.
It is very well worth the traveller's attention, for it
joins the severed ends of no less a road than the ancient
Pilgrims' Way, and is a very curious instance of
modernity helping to preserve antiquity. The Way
is clearly seen above, coming from Box Hill as a hollow
road, crossing the bridge and going in the direction
of Gatton Park, through a wood of beech trees.

The roadway of Reigate Hill is made to wind
circuitously, in an attempt to mitigate the severity
of the gradient ; but for all the care taken, it remains
one of the steepest hills in England, and is one of the
very few provided with granite kerbs intended to ease
the pull-up for horses. None but a very special fool
among cyclists in the old days attempted to ride down
the hill ; and many, even in these times of more
efficient brakes, prefer to walk down. Only motor-
cars, like the Gadarene swine of the Scriptures,
" rushing violently down a steep place, '^ attempt it ;
and those who are best acquainted with the hill live
in daily expectation of a recklessly driven car spilling
Over the rim.

XIX

Reigate town lies at the foot, sheltered under this
great shoulder of the downs ; a little town of consider-
able antiquity and inconsiderable story. It is
mentioned in Domesday Book, but under the now
forgotten name of " Cherchefelle," and did not begin
to assume the name of Reigate until nearly two
hundred years later.

Churchfield was at the time of the Norman conquest
a manor in the possession of the widowed Queen, and
was probably little more than an enclosed farm and
manor-house situated in a clearing of the Holmesdale
woods ; but it had not long passed into the hands of
William de Varennes, who had married Gundrada the

COBBETT 165

Conqueror's daughter and was one of his most intimate
henchmen at the Battle of Hastings, before it became
the site of the formidable Reigate, or Holm, Castle.
The manors granted to William de Varennes compre-
hended nearly the whole of Surrey, and included
others in Sussex, Yorkshire, and Norfolk. Such were
the splendours that fell to the son-in-law and the
companion-in-arms of a successful invader. He
became somewhat Anglicised under the title of Earl
of Warenne, and the ancestor of a line of seven Earls,
of whom the last died in 1347, when the family became
firstly merged in that of the Fitzalans, then of the
Mowbrays, and finally in that of the alternately
absorbent and fissiparous Howards.

Holm, or Reigate Castle, had little history of the
warlike sort. It frowned terribly upon its sandstone
ridge, but tamely submitted in 1216 when the foreign
allies of the discontented subjects of King John
approached : and when the seventh Earl, who had
murdered Baron de la Zouche at Westminster, was
attacked here by Prince Edward, he promptly made a
grovelling surrender and paid the fine of 12,000 marks
(equal to £24,000) demanded. In 1550, when Lam-
barde wrote, only " the ruyns and rubbishe of an old
castle which some call Homesdale " were left, and
even those were cleared away by order of the Parliament
in 1648. Now, after many centuries of change in
ownership, the hill on which that fortress stood is
contemptuously tunnelled, to give a more direct road
through the town.

In this connection, Cobbett, coming to Reigate
through Sutton in 1823, is highly entertaining. The
tunnel was then being made, and it did not please
him. " They are," he vociferates, " in order to save
a few hundred yards' length of road, cutting through
a hill. They have lowered a little hill on the London
side of Sutton. Thus is the money of the country
actually thrown away : the produce of labour is taken
from the industrious and given to the idlers. Mark
the process ; the town of Brighton, in Sussex, fifty

166 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

miles from the Wen, is on the seaside, and is thought
by the stockjobbers to afford a salubrious air. It is
so situated that a coach which leaves it not very early
in the morning reaches London by noon ; and, starting
to go back in two hours and a half afterwards, reaches
Brighton not very late at night. Great parcels of
stockjobbers stay at Brighton with the women and
children. They skip backward and forward on the
coaches, and actually carry on stock-jobbing in Change
Alley, though they reside at Brighton. The place is,
besides, a great resort with the xvhiskered gentry.
There are not less than about twenty coaches that
leave the Wen every day for this place ; and, there
being three or four different roads, there is a great
rivalship for the custom. This sets the people to
work to shorten and to level the roads ; and here you
see hundreds of men and horses constantly at work
to make jDJeasant and quick travelling for the Jews
and jobbers. The Jews and jobbers pay the turn-
pikes, to be sure ; but they get the money from the
land and labourers. They drain these, from John o'
Groat's House to the Land's End, and they lay out
some of the money on the Brighton roads."

Cobbett is dead, and the Reform Act is an old story,
but the Jews and the jobbers swarm more than
ever.

The tunnel through the castle hill was made by
consent of the then owner. Earl Somers, as a tablet
informs all who care to know. The entrance towards
the town is faced with white brick, in a style supposed
to be Norman. Above are the grounds, now public,
where a would-be mediaeval gateway, erected in 1777,
quite illegitimately impresses many innocents, and
below is the so-called Barons' Cave, an ancient excava-
tion in the soft sandstone where the Barons are (quite
falsely) said to have assembled in conclave before
forcing their will upon King John at Runnymede.
Unhappily for that tradition, the then Earl Warenne
was a supporter of the tyrant king, and any reforming
barons he might possibly have entertained at Reigate

THE castlb: caves

167

Castle would have been kept on the chain as enemies,
and treated to the eold comfort of bread and water.

There are deeper depths than these castle caves,
for dungeon-like excavations exist beside and under-

THE TUNNEL, REIGATE.

neath the tunnel ; but they are not so very terrible,
exuding as they do strong vinous and spirituous
odours, proving that the only prisoners languishing
there are hogsheads and kilderkins.

168 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Reigate, dropping its intermediate name of
Cherchefelle on Ridgegate, became variously Reigate,
Riggate, and Reygate in the thirteenth century. The
name obviously indicates a gate — that is to say, a
road — over the ridge of the downs ; presumably that
road upon which Gatton, the " gate-town," stood.
Strongly supporting this theory, Wray Common and
Park are found on the line of road between Reigate and
Gatton. If we select " Reygate " from the many
variants of the place-name, and place it beside that of
Wray Common, we get at once the phonetic link.

When Reigate lost the two members it sent to
Parliament, it lost much more than the mere distinction
of being represented. It lost free drinks and money to
jingle in its pockets, for it was openly corrupt — in
fact, neither better nor worse than most other
constituencies. What else, when you consider it,
could be expected when the franchise was so limited
that the electors were a mere handful, and votes by
consequence were individually valuable. In short,
the best safeguard against bribery is to so increase the
electorate that the purchase of votes is beyond the
capacity of a candidate's pockets.

Modern circumstances have, indeed, so wrought
with coimtry towns of the Reigate type that they are
merely the devitalised spooks of their former selves,
and Reigate would long ere this have been on the verge
of extinction, had it not been within the revivifying
influence of the suburban area. It is due to the Wen,
as Cobbett would call it, that Reigate is still at once so
old-world and so prosperous. It is surrounded by
semi-suburban estates, but is in its centre still the
Reigate of that time when the coaches came through,
when royalty and nobility lunched at the still-existing
" White Hart," and when fifty miles made a long day's
journey.

Reigate town was the property, almost exclusively,
of the late Lady Henry Somerset. By direction of her
heir, Somers Somerset, it was, in October, 1921, sold
at auction in several lots.

REIGATE CHURCH 169

There are some in Reigate who dwell in imagination
upon old times. Not by any means the obvious
people, the clergy and the usual kidney ; they jfind
existence there a vast yawn. The antiquarian taste
revealed itself by chance to the present inquirer in the
person of a policeman on duty by the tunnel, who
knew all about Reigate's one industry of digging
silv^er-sand, who could speak of the " Swan " inn
having once possessed a gallows sign that spanned the
road, and knew all about the red brick market-house
or town hall being built in 1708 on the site of a
pilgrims' chapel dedicated to St. Thomas a Becket.
He could tell, too, that wonderful man, of a bygone
militant parson of Reigate, who, warming to some
dispute, took off his coat in the street and saying, " Lie
there, divinity," handsomely thrashed his antagonist.
" I like them old antidotes," said my constable ; and
so do I.

XX

Reigate Church has been many times restored, and
every time its monuments have suffered a general
post ; so that scarce an one remains where it was
originally placed, and very few are complete.

The most remarkable monument of all, after having
been removed from its original place in the chancel to
the belfry, has now utterly vanished. It is no excuse
that its ever having been placed in the church at all
was a scandal and an outrage, for, being there, it should
have been preserved, as in some sort an illustration of
bygone social conditions. But the usual obliterators
of history and of records made their usual clean sweep,
and it has disappeared.

It was a heart-shaped monument, inscribed, " Near
this place heth Edward Bird, Esq., Gent. Dyed the
23rd of February, 171f . His age 26," and was sur-
mounted by a half-length portrait effigy of him in
armour, with a full flowing wig ; a truncheon in his right

170 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

hand, and in the background a number of miUtary
trophies.

The especial scandal attaching to the fact of this
monument ever having been i)laced in the church
arises from the fact that Edward Bird was hanged for
murder. Some particulars are gleaned from one of
the many catchpenny leaflets issued at the time by
the Ordinary — that is to say, the Chaplain — of New-
gate, who was never averse from adding to his official
salary by writing the " last dying words " of interesting
criminals ; but his flaring front pages were, at the best
— like the contents bills of modern sensational evening
newspapers — indifferent honest, and his account of
Bird is meagre.

It seems, collating this and other authorities, that
this interesting young man had been given the
advantages of " a Christian and Gentlemanlike
Education," which in this case means that he had
been a Westminster boy under the renowned Dr.
Busby, and afterwards a scholar at Eton. This
finished Christian then became a lieutenant in the
Marquis of Winchester's Horse. He married when
twenty years of age, and his wife died a year
later, when he plunged into a dissolute life in
London.

One evening in September, 1718, he was driven
" with a woman in a coach and a bottle of Champain
wine " to a " bagnio " in Silver Street, Golden Square,
and there " had the misfortune " to run a waiter,
one Samuel Loxton, through the body with his sword.
" G — d d — n you, I will murder you all," he is reported
to have threatened, and a farrier of Putney, called at
the subsequent trial, deposed to having once been
run through the body by this martial spirit.

Greatly to the surprise of himself and friends.
Lieutenant Bird was not only arrested and tried,
but found guilty and sentenced to death. The
historian of these things is surprised, too ; for
gentlemen of fashion were in those times very
much what German officers became — privileged

AN EXIT AT TYBURN 171

murderers — and waiters were earthworms. I cannot
understand it at all.

At any rate, Edward Bird took it ill and declined
the ministrations of the Ordinary, saying " He was
very bu/y, was to write Letters, expected Company,
and such-like frivolous Excuses." The Ordinary does
not tell us in so many words, but we may suspect that
the condemned man told him to go to the Devil. He
was, indeed, an altogether hardened sinner, and would
not even go to chapel, and was so poor a sportsman
that he tried to do the rabble of Tyburn out of the
entertaining spectacle of his execution, taking poison
and stabbing himself in several places on the eve of
that interesting event.

He seems to have been afraid of hurting himself,
for he died neither of poison nor of wounds, and was
duly taken to Tyburn in a handsome mourning coach,
accompanied by his mother, by other Christians and
gentlemen, by the Ordinary, and three other clergymen,
to see him duly across the threshold into the other
world. He stood an hour under the fatal tree, talking
with his mother, and no hour of his life could have
sped so swiftly. Then the chaplain sang a penitential
psalm and the other divines prayed, and the candidate
for the rope was made to repeat the Apostles' Creed,
after which he called for a glass of wine. No wine
being available, he took a pinch of snuff, bowed,
and said, " Gentlemen, I wish your health," and then
" was ty'd up, turned off, and bled very much at the
Mouth or Nose, or both."

The mystery of his being accorded a monument
in Reigate Church is explained when we learn that
his uncle, the Rev. John Bird, was both patron and
vicar. A further inscription beyond that already
quoted was once in existence, censuring the judge and
jury who condemned him. Traditions long survived
of his mother, on every anniversary of his execution,
passing the whole day in the church, sorrowing.

The date of the monument's disappearance is not
clearly established, but old inhabitants of Reigate

172

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

have recollections of the laughing workmen, during
the rebuilding of the tower in 1874, throwing marble
figures out of the windows, and speak of the fragments
being buried in the churchyard.

For the rest, Reigate Church is only of mild interest ;
excepting, indeed, the parish library, housed over the
vestry, containing among its seventeen hundred books
many of great interest and variety. The collection
was begun in 1701 by the then vicar.

A little-known fact about Reigate is that the
notorious Eugene Aram for a year lived here, in a
cottage oddly named " Upper Repentance."

The road leaving Reigate, by Parkgate and the
Priory, passes a couple of cottages not in themselves

remarkable but
bearing a curious
device intended to
represent bats'
Avings, and inscribed
" J. T. 1815." They
are known as
" Bats wing Cott-
ages," but what
induced "J. T." to
call them so, and
even who he was,
seems to be un-
known.

Over the rise of
Cockshut Hill and
through a wooded cutting the road comes to Wood-
hatch and the " Old Angel " inn, where the turnpike-
gate stood, and where a much earlier gate, indicated
in the place-name, existed.

Woodhatch, the gate into the woods, illustrates
the ancient times when the De Warennes held the
great Reigate, or Holm, Castle and much of the
woodlands of Holmesdale. The name of Earlswood,
significant to modern ears only of the great idiot
asylum there, derives from them. Place-names down

TABLET : BATSWING COTTAGES.

LOWFIELD HEATH 178

in these levels ending in " wood " recall the dense
forests that once overspread Holmesdale : Ewood,
Norwood, Charlwood, Hartswood, Hookwood — vast
glades of oak and beech, where the hogs roamed and
the prototypes of Gyrth, the swineherd, tended them,
in the consideration of the Norman lords of little more
value than the pigs they herded. The scattered " leys "
— Horley, Crawley, Kennersley, and the like — allude
to the clearings or pastures amid the forest. Many
other entrances into those old bosquets may be traced
on the map — Tilgate, Fay Gate, Monk's Gate and
Newdigate among them ; but the woodlands have
long been nothing but memories, and fields and
meadows, flatness itself, stretch away on either side
of the level road to, and beyond, Horley, with the
river Mole sluggishly winding through them — a scene
not unbeautiful in its placid way.

The little hamlet of Sidlow Bridge, with its modern
church, built in 1862, marks the point where the road,
instead of continuing straight, along the flat, went
winding off away to the right, seeking a route secure
from the Mole floods, up Black Horse Hill. When the
route was changed, and the " Black Horse " inn, by
consequence, lost its custom, a newer inn of the same
name was built at the cross-roads in the levels ; and
there it stands to-day, just before one reaches Povey
Cross and the junction of routes.

Povey Cross, of whose name no man knows the
derivation, leads direct past the tiny Kimberham, or
Timberham, Bridge over the Mole, to Lowfield Heath,
referred to in what, for some inscrutable reason, are
styled the " Statutes at Large," as " Lovell " Heath.
The place is in these days a modern hamlet, and the
heath, in a strict sense, is to seek. It has been improved
away by enclosure and cultivation, utterly and without
remorse ; but the flat, low-lying land remains eloquent
of the past, and accounts for the humorous error of
some old maps which style it " Level Heath."

The whole district, from Salfords, through Horley,
to near Crawley, is at times little more than an inland

17i

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

sea, for here ooze and crawl the many tributaries of
the Mole. The memorable floods of October, 1891,
following upon a wet summer and autumnal weeks of
rain, swelled the countless arteries of the Mole, and
the highways became rushing torrents. Along the nut-

brown flood floated the remaining apples from drowned
orchards, with trees, bushes, and hurdles. Postmen on
their rounds were reduced to wading, and thence to
horseback and wheeled conveyances ; and Horley
churchyard was flooded.

CHARLWOOD 175

A repetition of this state of things occurred in
February, 1897, when the dedication of the new organ
in the church of Lowfield Heath could not be performed,
the roads being four feet under water.

XXI

The traveller does not see the true inwardness of the
Weald from the hard high road. Turn we, then at
Povey Cross for a rustic interlude into the byways,
making for Charlwood and Ifield.

Few are those who find themselves in these lonely
spots. Hundreds, nay, thousands are continually
passing almost within hail of their slumberous sites,
and have been passing for hundreds of years, yet they
and their inhabitants doze on, and ever and again
some cyclist or pedestrian blunders upon them by a
fortunate accident, as, one may say, some unconscious
Livingstone or Speke, discovering an unknown Happy
Valley, and disturbs with a little ripple of modernity
their uneventful calm.

The emptiness of the three miles or so of main road
between Povey Cross and Crawley is well exchanged
for these devious ways leading along the valley of the
Mole. A prettier picture than that of Charlwood
Church, seen from the village street through a framing
of two severely-cropped elms forming an archway
across the road, can rarely be seen in these home
counties, and the church itself is an ancient building
of the eleventh century, with later windows, inserted
when the Norman gloom of its interior assorted less
admirably with a more enlightened time. In plan
cruciform, with central tower and double nave, it is
of an unusual type of village church, and presents
many features of interest to the archaeologist, whose
attention will immediately be arrested by the frag-
ments of an immense and hideous fresco seen on the
south wall. A late brass, now mural, in the chancel.

176

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

dated 1553, is for Nicholas Sander and Alys his wife.
These^anders, or, as they spelled their name variously,
Saunder, held for many years the manor of Charlwood,
and from an early period those of Purley and Sandersted
— Sander's-stead, or dwelling. Sir Thomas Saunder,
Remembrancer of the Exchequer in Queen Elizabeth's
time, bequeathed his estates to his son, who sold the

reversion of Purley in 1580. Members of the family,
now farmers, still live in the parish where, in happier
times, they ruled.

One of the prettiest spots in Surrey is the tiny
village of Newdigate, on a secluded winding road
leading past a picturesque little imi, the " Surrey
Oaks," fronted with aged trees. It is, perhaps, the
loneliest place in the county, and is worth visiting,

NEWDIGATE

177

if only for a peep into the curious timber belfry of its
little church, which contains a hoary chest, contrived

3\ Gr-^er

.>/ew3.Tqa^e Q\tir-ckG)

out of a solid block of oak, and fastened with three
ancient padlocks.

But few go so far, and indeed the way by Ifield has
its own interests and attractions. Here a primitive
M

178 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

pavement or causeway is very noticeable, formed of

a row of large flat blocks of stone, along the grassy

margins of the ditches. This is a survival (not

altogether without its uses, even now) of the time

when

Essex ftdl of good housewyfes,
Middlesex hill of stry ves,
Kentshire hoot as fire,
Sowseks full of dirt and mire

was a saying with plenty of current meaning to it.
In those days the Wealden clay asserted itself so
unpleasantly that stepping-stones for pedestrians were
necessities.

The stones themselves have a particular interest,
coming as they did from local quarries long since
closed. They are of two varieties : one of a yellowish-
grey ; the other, greatly resembling Purbeck marble,
fossiliferous and of a light bluish tint. Charlwood
Church itself is built of Charlwood stone.

Ifield is just within the Sussex boundary. A
beautiful way to it lies through the park, in whose
woody drives the oak and holly most do grow. It
has been remarked of this part of the Weald, that its
soil is particularly favourable to the growth of the oak.
Cobbett indeed says, "It is a county where, strictly
speaking, only three things will grow well — -grass,
wheat, and oak-trees ; " and it was long a belief
that Sussex alone could furnish forth oak sufficient
to build all the navies of Europe, notwithstanding the
ravages among the forests made by the forges and
furnaces.

In the church of St. Margaret, Ifield, whose
somewhat unprepossessing exterior gives no hint
of its inward beauty, is an oaken screen made from
the wood of an old tree which stood for centuries
on the Brighton Road at Lowfield Heath, where
the boundary lines of Surrey and Sussex meet, and
was cut down in the " forties." The tree was known
far and wide as " County Oak."

For the rest, the church is interesting enough by
reason of its architecture to warrant some lingering

IFIELD

179

here, but it is, beside this legitimate attraction, also
very much of a museum of sepulchral curiosities. A
brass for two brothers, with a curious metrical inscrip-
tion, lurks in the gloom of the south aisle on the wall,
and sundry grim and ghastly relics, in the shape of
engraved coffin-plates, grubbed up by ghoulish
antiquaries from the vaults below, form a perpetual
memento mori from darksome masonry. On either side
the nave, by the chancel, beneath the graceful arches

^.7i^yL>C^'^^<^'

of the nave arcade, are the recumbent effigies of Sir
John de Ifield and his lady. The knight died in 1317.
He is represented as an armed Crusader, cross-legged,
" a position," to quote " Thomas Ingoldsby," " so
prized by Templars in ancient and tailors in modern
days." The old pews came from St. Margaret's,
Westminster. But so dark is the church that details
can only with difficulty be examined, and to emerge
from the murk of this interior is to blink again in the
light of day, however dull that day may be.

180

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

From Ifield Church, a long and exceeding straight
road leads in one mile to Ifield Hammer Pond. Here
is one of the many sources of the little river Mole,
whose trickling tributaries spread over all the
neighbouring valley. The old mill standing beside the

IFIELD MILL POND.

hatch bears on its brick substructure the date 1683,
but the white-painted, boarded mill itself is evidently
of much later date.

Before a mill stood here at all, this was the site

SUSSEX IRON 181

of one of the most important ironworks in Sussex,
when Sussex iron paid for the smelting.

Ironstone had been known to exist here even in the
days of the Roman occupation, when Anderida,
extending from the sea to London, was all one vast
forest. Heaps of slag and cinders have been found,
containing Roman coins and implements of contem-
porary date, proving that iron was smelted here to
some extent even then. But it was not until the latter
part of the Tudor period that the industry attained
its greatest height. Then, according to Camden,
" the Weald of Sussex was full of iron-mines, and the
beating of hammers upon the iron filled the neighbour-
hood round about with continual noise." The iron-
stone was smelted with charcoal made from the forest
trees that then covered the land, and it was not until
the first year or two of the last century that the
industry finally died out. The last remaining iron-
works in Sussex were situated at Ashburnham, and
ceased working about 1820, owing to the inability
of iron-masters to compete with the coal-smelted ore
of South Wales.

By that time the great forest of Anderida had
almost entirely disappeared, which is not at all a
wonderful thing to consider when we learn that one
ironworks alone consumed 200,000 cords of wood
annually. Even in Drayton's time the woods were
already very greatly despoiled.

Relics of those days are plentiful, even now, in the
ancient farmhouses ; relics in the shape of cast-iron
chimney-backs and andirons, or " fire-dogs," many of
them very effectively designed ; but, of course, in
these days of appreciation of the antique, numbers
of them have been sold and removed.

The water-power required by the ironworks was
obtained by embanking small streams, to form ponds ;
as here at I field, where a fine head of water is still
existing. Very many of these " Hammer Ponds "
remain in Sussex and Surrey, and were long so called
by the rustics, whose unlettered and traditional

182 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

memories were tenacious, and preserved local history
much better than does the less intimate book-learning
of the reading classes. But now that every plough-
boy reads his " penny horrible," and every gaffer
devours his Sunday paper, they have no memories
for " such truck," and local traditions are fading.

Ifield ironworks became extinct at an early date,
but from a V'cry arbitrary cause. During the conflicts
of the Civil War the property of Royalists was destroyed
by the Puritan soldiery wherever possible ; and after
the taking of Arundel Castle in 1643, a detachment of
troops under Sir William Waller wantonly wrecked the
works then situated here, since when they do not
appear to have been at any time revived.

It is a pretty spot to-day, and extremely quiet.

From here Crawley is reached through Gossop's
Green.

XXII

The way into Crawley along the main road, passing
the modern hamlet of Lowfield Heath, is uneventful.
The church, the " White Lion," and a few attendant
houses stand on one side of the road, and on the other,
by the farm or mansion styled Heath House, a sedgy
piece of ground alone remains to show what the heath
was like before enclosure. Much of the land is now
under cultivation as a nursery for shrubs, and a bee-
farm attracts the wayfarers' attention nearer Crawley,
where another hamlet has sprung up. A mean little
house called " Casa qucrca " — by which I suppose the
author means Oak House — is " refinement," as
imagined in the suburbs, and excites the passing sneer,
" Is not the English language good enough ? " If the
Italians will only oblige, and call their own " Bella
Vistas " " Pretty View," and so forth, while we
continue the reverse process here, we shall effect a
fair exchange, and find at last an Old England over-sea.

184 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

At the beginning of Crawley stands the " Sun " inn,
and away at the other end is the " Half Moon " ;
trivial facts not lost upon the guards and coachmen
of the coaching age, who generally propounded the
stock conundrum when passing through. " Why is
Crawley the longest place in existence ? " Every one
unfamiliar with the road " gave it up " ; when came
the answer, " Because the sun is at one end and the
moon at the other." It is evident that very small
things in the way of jokes satisfied the coach-passengers.

We have it, on the authority of writers who fared
this way in early coaching days, that Crawley was a
" poor place," by which we may suppose that they
meant it was a village. But what did they expect —
a city ?

Crawley in these times still keeps some old-world
features, but it has grown, and is still growing. Its
most striking peculiarity is the extraordinary width
of the road in midst of what I do not like to call a
town, and yet can scarce term a village ; and the next
most remarkable thing is the bygone impudence of
some forgotten land-snatchers who seized plots in
midst of this street, broad enough for a market-place,
and built houses on them. By what slow, insensible
degrees these sites, doubtless originally those of
market-stalls, were stolen, records do not tell us ; but
we may imagine the movable stalls replaced by fixed
wooden ones, and those in course of time giving place
to more substantial structures, and so forth, in the
time-honoured way, until the present houses, placed
like islands in the middle of the street, sealed and
sanctified the long-drawn tale of grab.

Even Crawley's generous width of roadway cannot
have been an inch too wide for the traffic that crowded
the village when it was a stage at which every coach
stopped, when the air resounded with the guards'
winding of their horns, or the playing of the occasional
key-bugle to the airs of " Sally in our Alley " or
Love's Young Dream." Then the " George " was the
scene of a continual bustling, with the shouting of

CRAWLEY 187

the ostlers, the chink and clashing of harness, and all
the tumults of travelling, when travelling was no light
affair of an hour and a fraction, railway time, but a
real journey, of five hours.

Now there is little to stir the pulses or make the
heart leap. Occasionally some great cycle " scorch "
is in progress, when whirling enthusiasts speed through
the village on winged wheels beneath the sign of the
" George " spanning the street and swinging in the
breeze ; a sign on which the saintly knight wages
eternal warfare with a blurred and very invertebrate
dragon. Sometimes a driving match brings down
sportsmen and bookmakers, and every now and again
some one has a record to cut, be it in cycling, coaching,
walking, or in wheelbarrow trundling ; and then the
roads are peopled again.

There yet remain a few ancient cottages in Crawley,
and the grey, embattled church tower lends an assured
antiquity to the view ; but there is, in especial, one
sixteenth-century cottage, worthy notice. Its timbered
frame stands as securely, though not so erect, as ever,
and is eloquent of that spacious age when the Virgin
Queen (Heaven help those who named her so !) rules
the land. It is Sussex, realised at a glance.

They are conservative folks at Crawley. When that
ancient elm of theirs that stood directly below this old
cottage had become decayed with lapse of years and
failure of sap, they did not, even though its vast
trunk obtrudes upon the roadway, cut it down and
scatter its remains abroad. Instead, they fenced it
around with as decorative a rustic railing as might
well be contrived out of cut boughs, all innocent of
the carpenter and still retaining their bark, and they
planted the enclosure with flowers and tender saplings,
so that this venerable ruin became a very attractive
ruin indeed.

Rowlandson has preserved for us a view of Crawley
as it appeared in 1789, when he toured the road and
sketched, while his companion, Henry Wigstead, took
notes for his book, " An Excursion to Brighthelmstone."

188

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

It is a work of the dreadfullest ditch-water duhiess,
saved only by the artist's illustrations. That they
should have lived, you who see the reproduction will
not wonder. The old sign spans the way, as of yore,
but Crawley is otherwise greatly changed.

An odd fact, unknown to those who merely pass
through the place, is that the greater part of
" Crawley " is not in that parish at all, but in
the adjoining parish of Ifield. Only the church

AN OLD COTTAGE AT CRAWLEY.

and a few houses on the same side of the street belong
to Crawley.

In these later years the church, once kept rigidly
locked, is generally open, and the celebrated inscription
carved on one of the tie-beams of the nave is to be seen.
It is in old English characters, gilded, and runs in this
admonitory fashion :

IJaa sn toflf betoar, for foarlblg goob raakgt^ man blfiube
If foar be for folate comgt^ be ^gnbe

When the stranger stands puzzling it out, unconscious
of not being alone, it is sufficiently startling to hear

^1

190 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

the unexpected voice of the sexton, " be hynde,"
remarking that it is arnshunt."

The sturdy old tower is crowned with a gilded
weather vane representing Noah's dove returning to
the Ark with the oHve-leaf, when the waters were
abated from off the earth : a device pecuHarly
appropriate, intentionally or not, to Crawley, over-
looking the oft-flooded valley of the Mole.

But the most interesting feature of this church is
the rude representation of the Trinity carved on the
western face of the tower : three awful figures of very
ancient date, on a diminishing scale, built into fifteenth-
century niches. Above, on the largest scale, is the
Supreme Being, holding what seems to be intended
for a wheel, one of the ancient symbols of eternity.
The sculptor, endeavouring to realise the grovelling
superstition of his remote age, has put his " fear of
God," in a very literal sense, into the grim, truculent,
merciless, all-judging smile of the image ; and thus,
in enduring stone, we have preserved to us the terrified
minds of the dark ages, when God, the loving Father,
was non-existent, and was only the Judge, swift to
punish. The other figures are merely like infantile
grotesques.

XXIIl

There is but one literary celebrity whose name goes
down to posterity associated with Crawley. At Vine
Cottage, near the railway station, resided Mark Lemon,
editor of Punch, who died here on May 20th, 1870.
Since his time the expansion of Crawley has caused
the house to be converted into a grocer's shop.

The only other inhabitant of Crawley whose
deeds informed the world at large of his name and
existence was Tom Cribb, the bruiser. But though I
lighted upon the statement of his residence here
at one time, yet, after hmiting up details of

PRIZE-FIGHTS

191

his life and of the battles he
fought, after pursuing him
through the classic pages of
" Boxiana " and the voluminous
records of " Pugilistica," after
consulting, too, that sprightly
work " The Fancy " ; after all
this I find no further mention
of the fact. It was fitting,
though, that the pugilist should
have his home near Crawley
Downs, the scene of so many of
the Homeric combats witnessed
by thousands upon thousands
of excited spectators, from the
Czar of Russia and the great
Prince Regent, downwards
to the lowest blackguards
of the metropolis. An inspiring
sight those Downs must have
presented from time to
time, when great multitudes — -
princes, patricians, and
plebeians of every description-
hung with beating hearts and
bated breath upon the per-
formances of two men in a

roped enclosure battering one another for so much
a side.

It is thus no matter for surprise that the Brighton
Road, on its several routes, witnessed brilliant and
dashing turn-outs, both in public coaches and private
equipages, during that time when the last of the
Georges flourished so flamboyantly as Prince, Prince
Regent, and King. How else could it have been
with the Court at one end of it and the metropolis
at the other, and between them the rendezvous of all
such as delighted in the " noble art " ?

Many were the merry " mills " which " came off "
at Crawley Downs, Copthorne Common, and Blindley

SCULPTURED

EMBLEM OF THE

HOLY TRINITY.

CRAWLEY CHURCH.

192 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Heath, attended by the Prince and his merry men,
conspicuous among whom at different times were Fox,
Lord Barrymore, Lord Yarmouth (" Red Herrings "),
and Major George Hanger. As for the tappings of
claret, the punchings of conks and bread-baskets, and
the tremendous sloggings that went on in this neighbour-
hood in those virile times, are they not set forth with
much circumstantial detail in the pages of " Fistiana "
and " Boxiana " ? There shall you read how the
Prince Regent witnessed with enthusiasm such merry
sets-to as this between Randall and Martin on Crawley
Downs. " Boxiana " gives a full account of it, and is
even moved to verse, in this wise :

THE FIGHT AT CRAWLEY

BETWEEN

THE NONPAREIL

AND

THE OUT-AND-OUTER.

Come, won't you list unto my lay
About the fight at Crawley, O ! . . .

with the refrain —

With his filaloo trillaloo.
Whack, fal lal do dal dl de do !

For the number of rounds and such technical details
the curious mav be referred to the classic pages of
" Boxiana " itself.

Martin, originally a baker, and thus of course
familiarly known as the " Master of the Rolls,"
one of the heroes whom all these sporting blades
went out to see contend for victory in the ring,
died so recently as 1871. He had long retired
from the P.R., and had, upon quitting it, followed
the usual practice of retired pugilists, that is to
say, he became a publican. He was landlord
successively of the " Crown " at Croydon, and the
" Horns " tavern, Kennington.

As for details of this fight or that upon the same
spot from which Hickman, " The Gas-Light Man,"

THE REGENCY 193

came off victor, they are not for these pages. How
the combatants " fibbed " and " countered," and did
other things equally abstruse to the average reader,
you may, who care to, read in the pages of the
enthusiastic authorities upon the subject, who spare
nothing of all the blows given and received.

This was fine company for the Heir-apparent to
keep at Crawley Downs ; but see how picturesque he
and the crowds that followed in his wake rendered
those times. What diversions went forward on the
roads — such roads as they were ! One chronicler of
a fight here says, in all good faith, that on the morning
following the " battle," the remains of several carriages,
phaetons, and other vehicles were found bestrewing
the narrow ways where they had collided in the
darkness.

The House of Hanover, which ended with the death
of Queen Victoria, was not at any time largely endowed
with picturesqueness, saving only in the gruesome
picture afforded by the horrid legend which accounts
for the family name of Guelph ; but the Regent was
the great exception. He, at least, was picturesque ;
and if there be any who choose to deny it, I will ask
them how it comes that so many novelists dealing
with historical periods have chosen the period of the
Regency as so fruitful an era of romance ? The Prince
endowed his time with a glamour that has lasted, and
will continue unimpaired. It was he who gave a
devil-me-care connotation to the words " Regent "
and " Regency " ; and his wild escapades have
sufficed to redeem the Georgian Era from the reproach
of unrelieved dulness and greasy vulgarity.

The reign of George the Third was the culmination
of smug and unctuous bourgeois respectability at Court,
from whose weary routine the Prince's surroundings
were entirely different. Himself and his entourage
were dissolute indeed, roystering, drinking, cursing,
dicing, visiting prize-fights on these Downs of Crawley,
and hail-fellow-well-met with the blackguards there
gathered together. But whatever his surroundings,

194 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

they were never dull, for which saving grace many
sins may be excused him.

Thackeray, in his " Four Georges," has little that
is pleasant to say of any one of them, but is astonishingly
severe upon this last, both as Prince and King. For a
thorough-going condemnation, commend me to that
book. To the faults of George the Fourth the author
is very wide-awake, nor will he allow him any virtues
whatsoever. He will not even concede him to be a
man, as witness this passage : " To make a portrait
of him at sight seemed a matter of small difficulty.
There is his coat, his star, his wig, his countenance
simpering under it : with a slate and a piece of chalk,
I could at this very desk perform a recognisable
likeness of him. And yet, after reading of him in
scores of volumes, hunting him through old magazines
and newspapers, having him here at a ball, there at a
public dinner, there at races, and so forth, you find
you have nothing, nothing but a coat and a wig, and
a mask smiling below it ; nothing but a great simula-
crum."

Poor fat Adonis !

But Thackeray was obliged reluctantly to acknow-
ledge the grace and charm of the Fourth George, and
to chronicle some of the kind acts he performed,
although at these last he sneered consumedly, because,
forsooth, those thus benefited were quite humble
persons. It was not without reason that Thackeray
wrote so intimately of snobs : in those unworthy
sneers speaks one of the race.

One curious little item of praise the author of the
" Four Georges " was constrained to allow the Regent :
" Where my Prince did actually distinguish himself was
in driving. He drove once in four hours and a half
from Brighton to Carlton House — fifty-six miles." *

So the altogether British love of sport compelled
this little interlude in the abuse levelled at the
" simulacrum."

• He really drove the other way ; from Carlton House to Brighton.

PEASE POTTAGE 195

XXIV

Modern Crawley is disfigured by the abomination
of a busy railway level-crossing that bars the main
road and causes an immeasurable waste of public
time and a deplorable flow of bad language. It affords
a very good idea of the delays and annoyances at the
old turnpike-gates, without their excuse for existence.
Beyond it is the Park Lane or Belgravia of Crawley —
the residential and superior modern district of country
houses, each in midst of its own little pleasance.

The cutting in the rise at Hog's Hill passed, the
road goes in a long incline up to Hand Cross, by Pease
Pottage, where there is now a post-office which spells
the name wrongly, " Peas." No one knows how the
place-name originated ; but legends explain where
facts are wanting, and tell variously how soldiers in
the old days were halted here on their route-marching
and fed with " pease-pottage," the old name for
pease-pudding ; or describe how prisoners on the
cross-roads, on their way to trial at the assizes, once
held at Horsham and East Grinstead alternately, were
similarly refreshed. Formerly called Pease Pottage
(iate, from a turnpike-gate that spanned the Horsham
road, the " Gate " has latterly been dropped. It is
a pretty spot, with a triangular green and the old
" Black Swan " inn still standing at the back. The
green is not improved by the recent addition of a
huge and ugly signboard, advertising the inn as an
" hotel." The inquiring mind speculates curiously as
to whether the District Council (or whatever the local
governing body may be) is doing its duty in allowing
such a flagrant \'ulgarity, apart from any question
of legal rights, on common land. Indeed, the larger
question arises, in the gross abuse of advertising
notice-boards on this road in particular, and along
others in lesser degree, as to whether the shameful
defacement of natural scenery by such boards erected
on land public or private ought not to be suppressed
by law. Nearer Brighton, the beautiful distant views

196 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

of the South Downs are utterly damned by gigantic
black hoardings painted in white letters, trumpeting
the advantages ot" the motor garage of an hotel which
here, at least, shall not be named. Much has been
written about the abuse of advertising in America,
but Englishmen, sad to say, have in these latter days
outdone, and are outdoing, those crimes, while America
itself is retrieving its reputation.

This is the Forest Ridge of Sussex, where the Forest
of St. Leonards still stretches far and wide. Away
for miles on the left hand stretch the lovely beech-
woods and the hazel undergrowths of Tilgate, Balcombe,
and Worth, and on the right the little inferior wood-
lands extending to Horsham. The ridge is, in addition,
a great watershed. From it the Mole and the Med way
flow north, and the Arun, the Adur, and the Sussex
Ouse south, towards the English Channel. Hand
Cross is the summit of the ridge, and the way to it is
coming either north or south, a toilsome drag.

At Tilgate Forest Row the scenery becomes park-
like, laurel hedges lining the way, giving occasional
glimpses of fine estates to right and left. Here the
coachmen used to point out, with becoming awe, the
country house where Fauntleroy, the banker, lived,
and would tell how he indulged in all manner of unholy
orgies in that gloomy-looking mansion in the
forest.

Henry Fauntleroy was only thirty-nine years of age
when he met the doom then meted out to forgers.
As partner in the banking firm of Marsh, Sibbald & Co., of
Berners Street, he had entire control of the firm's Stock
Exchange business, and, unknown to his partners,
had for nine years pursued a consistent course of
illegally selling the securities belonging to customers
— forging their signatures to transfers. Paying the
interest and dividends as usual, the frauds, amounting
in all to £70,000, might have remained undiscovered
for many years longer ; but the credit of the
bank, long in a tottering condition, was exhausted in
September, 1824, when all was disclosed. Fauntleroy

198 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

was arrested on the 11th, and on the 14th the bank
suspended payment.

The failure of the bank was largely due to the
extravagance of the partners, Fauntleroy himself
living in fine style as a country gentleman ; but the
scandalous stories current at the time as to his mode
of life were quite disproved, while the partners were
clearly shown to have been entirely ignorant of the
state of their affairs, which acquits them of complicity,
though it does not redound to their credit as business
men. Fauntleroy readily admitted his guilt, and
added that he acted thus to prop up the long-standing
instability of the firm. He was tried at the Old Bailey
October 30th, 1824, sentenced to death, and executed
November 30th, in the presence of a crowd of 200,000
persons. He was famed among connoisseurs for the
excellence of his claret, and would never disclose its place
of origin. Friends who visited him 'in the condemned
cell begged him to confide in them, but he would never
do so, and when he died the secret died with him.

No one has ever claimed acquaintance with the
ghost of Fauntleroy, with or without his rope ; but
the road to Hand Cross has long enjoyed — or been
afflicted with — the reputation of being haunted. The
Hand Cross ghost is, by all accounts, an extremely
eccentric, but harmless spook, with peculiar notions
in the matter of clothes, and given, when the turnpike-
gate stood here, to monkey-tricks with bolts and bars,
whereby pikemen were not only scared, but were losers
of sundry tolls. Evidently that sprite was the way-
farers' friend.

" Squire Powlett " is another famous phantom of
this forest-side, and is more terrifying, being headless,
and given to the hateful practice of springing up
behind the horseman who ventures this way when
night has fallen upon the glades, riding with him to
the forest boundary. Motorists and cyclists, however,
do not seem to have been troubled. Possibly they
have a turn of speed quite beyond the ix)wers of such
an old-fashioned spook.

HAND CROSS 199

Why " Squire Powlett " should haunt these nocturnal
glades is not so easily to be guessed. He was not, so
far as can be learned, an evildoer, and he certainly was
not beheaded. He was that William Powlett, a
captain in the Horse Grenadiers and a resident in the
Forest of St. Leonards, who seems to have led an
exemplary life, and died in 1746, and is buried under
an elaborate monument in West Grinstead Church.

XXV

Hand Cross is a settlement of forty or fifty houses,
situated where several roads meet, in this delightful
land of forests. Its name derives, of course, from
some ancient signpost, or combination of signpost
and wayside cross, existing here in pre-Reformation
times, on the lonely cross-roads. No houses stood
here then, and Slaugham village, the nearest habitation
of man, was a mile distant, at the foot of the hill,
where, very little changed or not at all, it may still
be sought. Slaugham parish is very extensive,
stretching as far as Crawley ; and the hamlet of Hand
Cross, within it, although now larger than the parent
village itself, is only a mere mushroom excrescence
called into existence by the road travel of the last
two centuries.

It is the being on the main road, and on the junction
of several routes, that has made Hand Cross what
it is to-day and has deposed Slaugham itself ; just as
in towns a by-street being made a main thoroughfare
will make the fortunes of the shops in it and perhaps
ruin those of some other route.

Not that Hand Cross is great, or altogether pleasing
to the eye ; for, after all, it is a parvetiu of a place,
and lacks the Domesday descent of, for instance,
Cuckfield. Now, the parvenu, the man of his hands,
may be a very estimable fellow, but his raw prosperity
grates upon the nerves. So it is with Hand Cross, for

200 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

its prosperity, which has not waned with the coaching
era, has incited to the building of cottages of that
cheap and yellow brick we know so well and loathe
so much. Also, though there is no church, there are
two chapels ; one of retiring position, the other
conventicle of aggressive and red, red brick. One
could find it in one's heart to forgive the yellow brick ;
but this red, never. In this ruddy building is a
harmonium. On Sundays the wail of that instrument
and the hooting and ting, tinging of cyclorns and
cycling gongs, as cyclists foregather by the " Red
Lion," are the most striking features of the place.

The " Red Lion " is of greater interest than all
other buildings at Hand Cross. It stood here in
receipt of coaching custom through all the roystering
days of the Regency as it stands now, prosperous at
the hands of another age of wheels. Shergold tells us
that its landlords in olden times knew more of smuggling
than hearsay, and dispensed from many an anker of
brandy that had not rendered duty.

At Hand Cross the ways divide, the Bolney and
Hickstead route, opened in 1813, branching off to the
right and not merely providing a better surface, but,
with a straighter course, saving from one and a half
to two miles, and avoiding some troublesome rises,
becoming in these times the " record route " for
cyclists, pedestrians, and all who seek to speed between
London and Brighton in the quickest possible time.
It rejoins the classic route at Pyecombe.

For the present we will follow the older way, by
Cuckfield, down to Staplefield Common. A lovely
vale opens out as one descends the southern face of
the watershed, with an enchanting middle distance
of copses, cottages, and winding roads, the sun slanting
on distant ponds, or transmuting commonplace
glazier's work into sparkling diamonds.

At the foot of the hill is Sta])lcfield Common, bisected
by the highway, with recent cottages and modern
church, and in the loreground the " Jolly Farmers "
inn. But where are the famous cherry-trees of

202 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Staplefield, under whose boughs the coach, passengers
of a century ago feasted off the " black-hearts " ;
where are the " Dun Cow " and its equally famous
rabbit-puddings and its pretty Miss Finch ? Gone,
as utterly as though they had never been.

Three miles of oozy hollows and rises covered with
tangled undergrowths of hazels lead past Slough
Green and Whiteman's Green to Cuckfield. From the
hillsides the great Ouse Valley Viaduct of the Brighton
line, down towards Balcombe and Ardingly, is seen
stalking across the low-lying meadows, mellowed by
distance to the romantic similitude of an aqueduct of
ancient Rome.

Plentiful traces are yet visible of the rugged old
hollow lane that was the precursor of the present road.
In places it is a wayside pool ; in others a hollow,
grown thickly with trees, with tree-roots, gnarled and
fanglike, clutching in desperate hold its crumbling
banks. The older rustics know it, if the younger and
the passing stranger do not : they tell you " 'tis wheer
th' owd hroad tarned arff."

XXVI

The pleasant old town of Cuckfield stands on no
railway, and has no manufactures or industries of any
kind ; and since the locomotive ran the coaches off
the road has been a veritable Sleepy Hollow. It was
not always thus, for in those centuries — from the
fourteenth until the early part of the eighteenth —
when the beds of Sussex iron-ore were worked and
smelted on the spot, the neighbourhood of Cuckfield
was a Bldck Country, given over to the manufacture
of ironware, from cannon to firebacks.

All this was so long ago that nature has healed the
scars made by that busy time. Wooded hills replace
the uplands made bare by the smelters, the cinder-
heaps and mounds of slag are hidden under pastures,

CUCKFIELD 205

the " hammer-ponds " of the smelteries and foundries
have become the resorts of artists seeking the
picturesque, and the descendants of the old iron-
masters, the Burrells and the Sergisons, have for
generations past been numbered among the county
families.

Cuckfield very narrowly escaped being directly
on the route of the Brighton railway, but it pleased
the engineers to bring their line no nearer than Hay-
ward's Heath, some two miles distant. They built a
station there, on the lone heath, " for Cuckfield,"
with the result, sixty years later, that the sometime
solitude is a town and still growing, while Cuckfield
declines. Hayward's Heath, curiously enough, is,
or was until December, 1894, in the parish of Cuckfield,
but the time is at hand when the two will be joined
by the spread of that railway upstart ; and then will
be the psychological moment for abolishing the name
of Hayward's Heath — which is a shocking stumbling-
block for the aitchless — and adopting that of the
parental " Cookfield."

Meanwhile, I shall drop no sentimental tears over
the chance that Cuckfield lost, sixty years ago, of
becoming a railway junction and a modern town. Of
junctions and mushroom towns we have a sufficiency,
but of surviving sweet old country townlets very few.

To see Cuckfield thoroughly demands some little
leisure, for although it is small one must needs have
time to assimilate the atmosphere of the place, if it is
to be appreciated at its worth ; from the grey old
church with its tall shingled spire and its monuments
of Burrells and Sergisons of Cuckfield Place, to the
staid old houses in the quiet streets, and those two fine
old coaching inns, the " Talbot " and the " King's
Head." Rowlandson made a picture of the town in
1789, and it is not wholly unlike that, even now, but
where is that Fair we see in progress in his spirited
rendering ? Gone, together with the smart fellow
driving the curricle, and all the other figures of that
scene, into the forgotten. There, in one corner, you

206 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

see the Recruiting Sergeant and the drummer,
impressing with military glory a typical smock-
frocked Hodge, gaping so outrageously that he seems
to be opening his face rather than merely his mouth ;
the artist's idea seems to have been that, like a dolphin,
he would swallow anything, either in the way of food
or of stories. There are no full-blooded Sergeant Kites
and gaping yokels nowadays.

Cuckfield is evidently feeling, more and more, the
altered condition of affairs. Motorists, who are
supposed to bring back prosperity to the road, do
nothing of the kind on the road to Brighton ; for those
who live at Brighton or London merely want to reach
the other end as quickly as possible, and, with a legal
limit up to twenty miles an hour, can cover the
distance in two hours and a half, and, with an occasional
illegal interval, easily in two hours. Except in case
of a breakdown, the wayside hostelries do not often
see the colour of the motorists' money, but they smell
the stink, and are choked with the dust of them, and
landlords and every one else concerned would be only
too glad if the project for building a road between
London and Brighton, exclusively for motor traffic,
w^ere likely to be realised. Then ordinary users of the
highway might once more be able to discern the
natural scenery of the road, at present obscured with
dust-clouds.

The text for these remarks is furnished by the
recent closing, after a hundred and fifty years or more,
of the once chief inn of Cuckfield : the fine and stately
" Talbot,'.' now empty and " To Let " ; the hospitable
quotation " You're welcome, what's your will," from
The Merry Wives of Windsor on its fanlight, reading
like a bitter mockery.

The interior of Cuckfield Church is crowded with
monuments of the Sergisons and the Burrells. Pride
of place is given in the chancel to the monument of
Charles Sergison, who died in 1732, aged 78. It is a
very fine white marble monument, with a figure of
Truth gazing into her mirror, and holding with one

208 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

hand a medallion partly supported by a Cupid,
displaying a portrait of the lamented Sergison, who,
we learn from a sub-acid inscription, was
" Commissioner of the Navy forty-eight years, till
1719, to the entire satisfaction of the Kjng and his
Ministers." " The civil government of the Navy then
being put into military hands, he was esteemed by
them not a fit person to serve any longer." He was,
in short, like those " rulers of the Queen's (or King's)
Navee " satirised by Sir W. S. Gilbert in modern
times, and " never went to sea." At the period of his
compulsory retirement it seems to have rather belatedly
occurred to the authorities that such an one could not
be well acquainted with the needs of the Navy ; so
the " Capacity, Penetration, exact Judgment " of this
" true patriot " were shelved ; but, at any rate, he had
had his whack, and it was surely high time for the
exact judgment, true patriotism, capacity and
penetration of others to have a chance of making
something out of the nation.

A few monuments are hidden behind the organ,
among them one to Guy Carleton, " son of George,
Lord Bishop of Chichester." He, it seems, " died of
a consumption, cbbcxxiv," which appears to be the
highly esoteric way of writing 1624. " Mors vitie
initium " he tells us, and illustrates it with the pleasing
fancy of a skull mounted on an hour-glass, with ears
of wheat sprouting from the eyeless sockets. Other
equally pleasant devices, encircled with fragments of
Greek, are plentiful, the whole concluding with the
announcement that " The end of all things is at hand."
Holding that opinion, it would seem to have been
hardly worth while to erect the monument, but in the
result it survives to show what a very gross mistake
he made.

Two illustrations of the quiet annals of Cuckfield,
widely different in point of time, are the old clock and
the wall-plate memorial to one Frank Bleach of the
Royal Sussex Volunteer Company, who died at
Bloemfontein in 1901. The ancient hand-wrouffht

" ROOKWOOD " 200

clock, made in 1667 by Isaac Lcney, probably of
Cuckfield, finally stopped in 1867, and was taken clown
in 1873. After lying as lumber in the belfry for many
years, it was in 1904 fixed on the interior wall of the
tower.

XXVII

Cuckfield Place, acknowledged by Harrison
Ainsworth to be the original of his " Rookwood,"
stands immediately outside the town, and is visible,
in midst of the park, from the road. That romantic
home of ghostly tradition is fittingly approached by a
long and lofty avenue of limes, where stands the
clock-tower entrance-gate, removed from Slaugham
Place.

Beyond it the picturesquely broken surface of the
park stretches, beautifully wooded and populated with
herds of deer, the grey, many-gabled mansion looking
down upon the whole.

" Rookwood," the fantastic and gory tale that first
gave Harrison Ainsworth a vogue, was commenced in
1831, but not completed until 1834. Ainsworth died
at Reigate, January 3, 1882. Thus in his preface he
acknowledges his model :

" The supernatural occurrence forming the ground-
work of one of the ballads which I have made the
harbinger of doom to the house of Rookwood, is
ascribed by popular superstition to a family resident
in Sussex, upon whose estate the fatal tree (a gigantic
lime, with mighty arms and huge girth of trunk, as
described in the song) is still carefully preserved.
Cuckfield Place, to which this singular piece of timber
is attached, if, I may state for the benefit of the curious,
the real Rookwood Hall ; for I have not drawn upon
imagination, but upon memory in describing the
seat and domains of that fated family. The general
O

210

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

features of the venerable structure, several of its
chambers, the old garden, and, in particular, the
noble park, with its spreading prospects, its pifcturesque
views of the hall, ' like bits of Mrs. Radcliffe ' (as
the poet Shelley once observed of the same scene),
its deep glades, through which the deer come lightly

^^^fel

CUCKFIELD PLACE.

tripping down, its uplands, slopes, brooks, brakes,
coverts, and groves are carefully delineated."

" Like Mrs. Radcliffe ! " That romance is indeed
written in the peculiar convention, which obtained
with her, with Horace Walpole, with Maturin, and
" Monk " Lewis ; a convention of Gothic gloom and
superstition, delighting in gore and apparitions,
responsible for the " Mysteries of Udolpho, "
"The Italian," "The Monk," and other highly
seasoned reading of the early years of the nineteenth
century, Ainsworth deliberately modelled his manner
upon Mrs. Radcliffe, changing the scenes of his
desperate deeds from her favourite Italy to our own
land. His pages abound in apparitions, death-
watches, highwaymen, " pistols for two and breakfasts
for one," daggers, poison-bowls, and burials alive, and,

THE CLOCK-TOWER AND HAUNTED AVENUE,
CUCKFIELD PLACE.

AINSWORTH

218

with a little literary ability added to his horribles, his
would be a really hair-raising romance. But the blood
he ladles out so plentifully is only coloured water;
his spectres are only illuminated turnips on
broomsticks ; his verses so deplorable, his witticisms
so hobnailed that even schoolboys refuse any longer

..--H^

HARRISON AINSWORTH.

From the Frater portrait.

to be thrilled. He " wants to make yer blood run
cold," but he not infrequently raises a hearty laugh
instead. It would be impossible to burlescpie " Rook-
wood " ; it burlesques itself, and shall be allowed to

214 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

do so here, from the point where Alan Rookwood
visits the family vault, to his tragic end :

" He then walked beneath the shadow of one of
the yews, chanting an odd stanza or so of one of his
wild staves, wrapped the while, it would seem, in
affectionate contemplation of the subject-matter of
his song :

THE CHURCHYARD YEW.

* ^Metuendaque succo

Taxiis.*

A NOXIOUS tree is the churchyard yew.
As if from the dead its sap it drew ;
Dark are its branches, and dismal to see.
Like plumes at Death's latest solemnity.
Spectral and jagged, and black as the wings
Which some spirit of ill o'er a sepulchre flings :
Oh ! a terrible tree is the churchyard yew ;
Like it is nothing so grimly to view.

Yet this baleful tree hath a core so sound.
Can nought so tough in a grove be found :
From it were fashioned brave English bows.
The boast of our isle, and the dread of its foes.
For our sturdy sires cut their stoutest staves
From the branch that hung o'er their fathers' graves ;
And though it be dreary and dismal to view.
Staunch at the heart is the churchyard yew.

*' His ditty concluded, Alan entered the church,
taking care to leave the door slightly ajar, in order
to facilitate his grandson's entrance. For an instant
he lingered in the chancel. The yellow moonlight
lell upon the monuments of his race ; and, directed
by the instinct of hate, Alan's eye rested upon the
gilded entablature of his perfidious brother Reginald,
and muttering curses, ' not loud, but deep,' he passed
on. Having lighted his lantern in no tranquil mood,
he descended into the vault, observing a similar
caution with respect to the portal of the cemetery,
which he left partially unclosed, with the key in the
lock. Here he resolved to abide Luke's coming. The
reader knows what probability there was of his
expectations being realised.

FARCICAL ROMANCE 215

" For a while he paced the tomb, wrapped in gloomy
meditation, and pondering, it might be, upon the
result of Luke's expedition, and the fulfilment of his
own dark sehemes, scowling from time to time beneath
his bent eyebrows, counting the grim array of coffins,
and noticing, with something like satisfaction, that
the shell which contained the remains of his daughter
had been restored to its former position. He then
bethought him of Father Checkley's midnight intrusion
upon his conference with Luke, and their apprehension
of a supernatural visitation, and his curiosity was
stimulated to ascertain by what means the priest had
gained admission to the spot unperceived and unheard.
He resolved to sound the floor, and see whether any
secret entrance existed ; and hollowly and dully did
the hard flagging return the stroke of his heel as he
pursued his scrutiny. At length the metallic ringing
of an iron plate, immediately behind the marble effigy
of Sir Ranulph, resolved the point. There it was that
the priest had found access to the vault ; but
Alan's disappointment was excessive when he
discovered that this plate was fastened on the under-
side, and all communication thence with the church-
yard, or to wherever else it might conduct him, cut
off ; but the present was not the season for further
investigation, and tolerably pleased with the discovery
he had already made, he returned to his silent march
around the sepulchre.

" At length a sound, like the sudden shutting of the
church door, broke upon the profound stillness of the
holy edifice. In the hush that succeeded a footstep
was distinctly heard threading the aisle.

" ' He comes — he comes ! ' exclaimed Alan joyfully ;
adding, an instant after, in an altered voice, ' but he
comes alone.'

" The footstep drew near to the mouth of the
vault — it was upon the stairs. Alan stepped forward
to greet, as he supposed, his grandson, but started
back in astonishment aiul dismay as he encountered
in his stead Lady Rook wood. Alan retreated, while

216 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

the lady advanced, swinging the iron door after her,
which closed with a trenaendous clang. Approaching
the statue of the first Sir Ranulph she passed, and
Alan then remarked the singular and terrible expression
of her eyes, which appeared to be fixed upon the statue,
or upon some invisible object near it. There was
something in her whole attitude and manner calculated
to impress the deepest terror on the beholder, and
Alan gazed upon her with an awe which momently
increased. Lady Rookwood's bearing was as proud
and erect as we have formerly described it to have
been, her brow was as haughtily bent, her chiselled
lip as disdainfully curled ; but the staring, changeless
eye, and the deep-heaved sob which occasionally
escaped her, betrayed how much she was under the
influence of mortal terror. Alan watched her in
amazement. He knew not how the scene was likely
to terminate, nor what could have induced her to
visit this ghostly spot at such an hour and alone ; but
he resolved to abide the issue in silence — profound as
her own. After a time, however, his impatience got
the better of his fears and scruples, and he spoke.

" ' What doth Lady Rookwood in the abode of the
dead ? ' asked he at length.

" She started at the sound of his voice, but still
kept her eye fixed upon the vacancy.

" ' Hast thou not beckoned me hither, and am I
not come ? ' returned she, in a hollow tone. ' And
now thou askest wherefore I am here. I am here
because, as in thy life I feared thee not, neither in
death do I fear thee. I am here because '

" ' What seest thou ? ' interrupted Alan, with ill-
suppressed terror.

" ' What see I — ha — ha ! ' shouted Lady Rookwood,
amidst discordant laughter ; ' that which might
appal a heart less stout than mine — a figure anguish-
writhen, with veins that glow as with a subtle and
consuming flame. A substance, yet a shadow, in thy
living likeness. Ha — frown if thou wilt ; I can
return thy glances.'

MELODRAMA POUR RIRE 217

(( I

Where dost thou see this vision ? ' demanded Alan.

" ' Where ? ' echoed Lady Rookwood, becoming
for the first time sensible of the presence of a stranger.
' Ha — who are you that question me ? — what are
you ? — speak ! '

" ' No matter who or what I am,' returned Alan ;
' I ask you what you behold ? '

" ' Can you see nothing ? '

" ' Nothing,' replied Alan.

" ' You knew Sir Piers Rookwood ? '

Is it he ? ' asked Alan, drawing near her.
It is,' replied Lady Rookwood ; ' I have followed
him hither, and I will follow him whithersoever he leads
me, were it to- '

" ' What doth he now ? ' asked Alan ; ' do you
see him still ? '

" ' The figure points to that sarcophagus,' returned
Lady Rookwood — ' can you raise up the lid ? '

" ' No,' replied Alan ; ' my strength will not avail
to lift it.'

" ' Yet let the trial be made,' said Lady Rookwood ;
' the figure points there still — my own arm shall aid
you.'

" Alan watched her in dumb wonder. She advanced
towards the marble monument, and beckoned him to
follow. He reluctantly complied. Without any
expectation of being able to move the ponderous lid
of the sarcophagus, at Lady Rookwood's renewed
request he applied himself to the task. What was his
surprise when, beneath their united efforts, he found
the ponderous slab slowly revolve upon its vast
hinges, and, with little further difficulty, it was com-
pletely elevated, though it still required the exertion
of all Alan's strength to prop it open and prevent its
falling back.

" ' What does it contain ? ' asked Lady Rookwood.

" ' A warrior's ashes,' returned Alan.

" ' There is a rusty dagger upon a fold of faded
linen,' cried Lady Rookwood, holding down the
light.

218 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

" ' It is the weapon with which the first dame of
the house of Rookwood was stabbed,' said Alan, with
a grim smile :

' Which whoso findeth in the tomb
Shall clutch until the hour of doom ;
And when 'tis grasped by hand of clay
The curse of blood shall pass away.

So saith the rhyme. Have you seen enough ? '

" ' No,' said Lady Rookwood, precipitating herself
into the marble coffin. ' That weapon shall be mine.'

" ' Come forth — come forth,' cried Alan. ' My arm
trembles — I cannot support the lid.'

" ' I will have it, though I grasp it to eternity,'
shrieked Lady Rookwood, vainly endeavouring to
wrest away the dagger, which was fastened, together
with the linen upon which it lay, by some adhesive
substance to the bottom of the shell.

" ' At this moment Alan Rookwood happened to
cast his eye upward, and he then beheld what filled
him with new terror. The axe of the sable statue was
poised above its head, as in the act to strike him.
Some secret machinery, it was evident, existed between
the sarcophagus lid and this mysterious image. But
in the first impulse of his alarm Alan abandoned his
hold of the slab, and it sunk slowly downwards. He
uttered a loud cry as it moved. Lady Rookwood
heard this cry. She raised herself at the same moment
— the dagger was in her hand — she pressed it against
the lid, but its downward force was too great to be
withstood. The light was within the sarcophagus and
Alan could discern her features. The expression was
terrible. She uttered one shriek, and the lid closed
for ever.

" Alan was in total darkness. The light had been
enclosed with Lady Rookwood. There was something
so horrible in her probable fate that even he shuddered
as he thought upon it. Exerting all his remaining
strength, he essayed to raise the lid ; but now it was
more firmly closed than ever. It defied all his power.

FRENZY 219

Once, for an instant, he fancied that it yielded to his
straining sinews, but it was only his hand that slided
upon the surface of the marble. It w^as fixed —
immovable. The sides and lid rang with the strokes
which the unfortunate lady bestowed upon them with
the dagger's point ; but these sounds were not long
heard. Presently all was still ; the marble ceased to
vibrate with her blows. Alan struck the lid with his
knuckles, but no response was returned. All was
silent.

" He now turned his attention to his own situation,
which had become sufficiently alarming. An hour
must have elapsed, yet Luke had not arrived. The
door of the vault was closed — the key was in the lock,
and on the outside. He was himself a prisoner within
the tomb. What if Luke should not return ? What if
he were slain, as it might chance, in the enterprise ?
That thought flashed across his brain like an electric
shock. None knew of his retreat but his grandson.
He might perish of famine within this desolate vault.
" He checked this notion as soon as it was formed —
it was too dreadful to be indulged in. A thousand
circumstances might conspire to detain Luke. He was
sure to come. Yet the solitude, the darkness, was
awful, almost intolerable. The dying and the dead
were around him. He dared not stir.

" Another hour — an age it seemed to him — had
passed. Still Luke came not. Horrible forebodings
crossed him ; but he would not surrender himself to
them. He rose, and crawled in the direction, as he
supposed, of the door — fearful even of the stealthy
sound of his own foorsteps. He reached it, and his
heart once more throbbed with hope. He bent his
ear to the key ; he drew in his breath ; he listened for
some sound, but nothing was to be heard. A groan
would have been almost music in his ears.

" Another hour was gone ! He was now a prey to
the most frightful apprehensions, agitated in turns by
the wildest emotions of rage and terror. He at one
moment imagined that Luke had abandoned him, and

220 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

heaped curses upon his head ; at the next, convinced
that he had fallen, he bewailed with equal bitterness
his grandson's fate and his own. He paced the tomb
like one distracted ; he stamped upon the iron plate ;
he smote with his hands upon the door ; he shouted,
and the vault hollowly echoed his lamentations.
But Time's sand ran on, and Luke arrived not,

" Alan now abandoned himself wholly to despair.
He could no longer anticipate his grandson's coming —
no longer hope for deliverance. His fate was sealed.
Death awaited him. He must anticipate his slow
but inevitable stroke, enduring all the grinding horrors
of starvation. The contemplation of such an end was
madness, but he was forced to contemplate it now ;
and so appalling did it appear to his imagination,
that he half resolved to dash out his brains against
the walls of the sepulchre, and put an end at once
to his tortures ; and nothing, except a doubt whether
he might not, by imperfectly accomplishing his
purpose, increase his own suffering, prevented him
from putting this dreadful idea into execution. His
dagger was gone, and he had no other weapon. Terrors
of a new kind now assailed him. The dead, he fancied,
were bursting from their coffins, and he peopled the
darkness with grisly phantoms. They were round
about him on each side, whirling and rustling, gibbering,
groaning, shrieking, laughing, and lamenting. He
was stunned, stifled. The air seemed to grow
suffocating, pestilential ; the wild laughter was
redoubled ; the horrible troop assailed him ; they
dragged him along the tomb, and amid their howls
he fell, and became insensible.

" When he returned to himself, it was some time
before he could collect his scattered faculties ; and
when the agonising consciousness of his terrible
situation forced itself upon his mind, he had nigh
relapsed into oblivion. He arose. He rushed towards
the door : he knocked against it with his knuckles
till the blood streamed from them ; he scratched
against it with his nails till they were torn off by the

TORMENT 221

roots. With insane fury he hurled himself against
the iron frame : it was in vain. Again he had recourse
to the trap-door. He searched for it ; he found it.
He laid himself upon the ground. There was no
interval of space in which he could insert a finger's
point. He beat it with his clenched hand ; he tore
it with his teeth ; he jumped upon it ; he smote it
with his heel. The iron returned a sullen sound.

" He again essayed the lid of the sarcophagus.
Despair nerved his strength. He raised the slab a
few inches. He shouted, screamed, but no answer
was returned ; and again the lid fell.

" ' She is dead ! ' cried Alan. ' Why have I not
shared her fate ? But mine is to come. And such a
death ! — oh, oh ! ' And, frenzied at the thought, he
again hurried to the door, and renewed his fruitless
attempts to escape, till nature gave way, and he sank
upon the floor, groaning and exhausted.

" Physical suffering now began to take the place of
his mental tortures. Parched and consumed with a
fierce internal fever, he was tormented by unappeasable
thirst — of all human ills the most unendurable. His
tongue was dry and dusty, his throat inflamed ; his
lips had lost all moisture. He licked the humid floor ;
he sought to imbibe the nitrous drops from the walls ;
but, instead of allaying his thirst, they increased it.
He would have given the world, had he possessed it,
for a draught of cold spring-water. Oh, to have died
with his lips upon some bubbling fountain's marge !
But to perish thus !

" Nor were the pangs of hunger wanting. He had
to endure all the horrors of famine as well as the
agonies of quenchless thirst.

" In this dreadful state three days and nights
passed over Alan's fated head. Nor night nor day had
he. Time, with him, was only measured by its
duration, and that seemed interminable. Each hour
added to his suffering, and brought with it no relief.
During this period of prolonged misery reason often
tottered on her throne. Sometimes he was under the

222 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

influence of the wildest passions. He dragged coflins
from their recesses, hurled them upon the ground,
striving to break them open and drag forth their
loathsome contents. Upon other occasions he would
weep bitterly and wildly ; and once — once only — did
he attempt to pray ; but he started from his knees
with an echo of infernal laughter, as he deemed,
ringing in his ears. Then, again, would he call down
imprecations upon himself and his whole line, trampling
upon the pile of coffins he had reared ; and, lastly,
more subdued, would creep to the boards that contained
the body of his child, kissing them with a frantic
outbreak of affection.

" At length he became sensible of his approaching
dissolution. To him the thought of death might well
be terrible ; but he quailed not before it, or rather
seemed, in his latest moments, to resume all his wonted
firmness of character. Gathering together his
remaining strength, he dragged himself towards the
niche wherein his brother. Sir Reginald Rookwood, was
deposited, and, placing his hand upon the coffin,
solemnly exclaimed, ' My curse — my dying curse — be
upon thee evermore ! '

" Falling with his face upon the coffin, Alan instantly
expired. In this attitude his remains were discovered."
How to repress a smile at the picture conjured up
of Lady Rookwood " precipitating herself into the
marble coffin " ! How not to refrain from laughing
at the fantastic description of Alan piling up coffins in
the vault and jumping upon them !

XXVIII

Half a mile below Cuckfield stands Ansty Cross, (the
" Handstay " of old road-books, and said to derive
from the Anglo-Saxon, Heansti^e, meaning highway),
a cluster of a few cottages and the " Green Cross "
inn, once old and picturesque, now rebuilt in the

BURGESS HILL

228

Ready-made Picturesque order of architecture. Here
stood one of the numerous turnpike-gates.

Close by is Riddens Farm, a picturesque little
homestead, with tile-hung front and clustered chimneys.
It still contains one of those old Sussex cast-iron
firebacks mentioned in an earlier page, dated 1622.

Below Ansty, two miles or thereby down the road,
the little river Adur is passed at Bridge Farm, and the
twin towns of St. John's Common and Burgess Hill
are reached.

Before 1820 their sites were fields and common
land, wild and gorse- covered, free and open. Few
houses were then in sight ; the " Anchor " inn, by
Burgess Hill, the reputed haunt of smugglers, who
stored their contraband in the woods and heaths close
by ; and the " King's Head," at St. John's Common,
with two or three cottages — these were all.

St. John's Common, partly in Keymer and partly
in Clayton parishes, was enclosed piecemeal, between
1828 and 1855, by an arrangement between the lords
of the manors and the copyholders, who divided the
plunder between them, when this large tract of land
resent ly be-
came the site of
these towns of
St.* John's Com-
mon and Burgess
Hill, which
sprang up, if not
with quite the
rapidity of a
Californian
mining-town, at
least with a
celerity pre-
viously un-
known in Eng-
land. Their
rapid rise was
of course due to the Brighton Railway and its station.

OLD SUSSEX FIREBACK,
RIDDENS FARM.

224 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

There are, however, nowadays not wanting signs,
quite apart from the condition of the brick and tile
and drainpipe-making industry, on which the two
mushroom towns have come into being, that the
unlovely places are in a bad way. Shops closed and
vainly offered " to let " tell a story of artificial
expansion and consequent depression : the inevitable
Nemesis of discounting the future.

JACOB'S POST.

I will show you what the site of these uninviting
modern places was like, a hundred years ago. It is
not far, geographically, from the sorry streets of Burgess
Hill to the wild, wide commons of Wivelsfield and
Ditchling ; but such a change is wrought in two
miles and a half as would be considered impossible
by any who have not made the excursion into those

JACOB'S POST 225

beautiful regions. They show us, iu survival, what
the now hackneyed main roads were like three
generations ago.

In every circumstance Ditehling Common recalls
the " CrackskuU Commons " of the eighteenth-century
comedies, for it has a little horror of its own in the
shape of an authentic fragment of a gibbet. This is
the silent reminder of a crime committed near at hand,
at the " Royal Oak " inn, Wivelsfleld, in 1734. In
that year Jacob Harris, a Jew pedlar, came to the inn
and, stabling his horse, attacked Miles, the landlord,
while he was grooming the animal down, and cut his
throat. The servant-maid, hearing a disturbance in
the stable, and coming downstairs to see the cause of
it, was murdered in the same way, and then the Jew
calmly walked upstairs and slaughtered the landlord's
wife, who was lying ill in bed. None of these
unfortunate i^eople died at once. The two women
expired the same night, but Miles lived long enough
to identify the assassin, who was hanged at Horsham,
his body being hung in chains from this gibbet, ever
since known as Jacob's Post.

Pieces of wood from this gallows-tree were long
and highly esteemed by country-folk as charms, and
were often carried about with them as preventatives
of all manner of accidents and diseases ; indeed, its
present meagre proportions are due to this practice
and belief.

The post is fenced with a wooden rail, and is sur-
mounted by the quaint iron effigy of a rooster, pierced
with the date, 1734, in old-fashioned figures.

It is a lonely spot, with but one cottage near at
hand : the common undulating away for miles until
it reaches close to the grey barrier of the noble South
Downs, rising magnificently in the distance.

226 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

XXIX

Returning to the exploited main road, Friar's Oak
is soon reached. It was selected by Sir Conan Doyle
as one of the scenes of his Regency story, " Rodney
Stone " ; but since the year 1900, when the old inn
was rebuilt, the spot has become an eyesore to those
who knew it of old.

No one knows why Friar's Oak is so called, and
" Nothing is ever known about anything on the roads,"
is the intemperate exclamation that rises to the lips
of the disappointed explorer. But wild legends, as
usual, supply the place of facts, and the old oak that
stands opposite the inn is said to have been the spot
where a friar, or friars, distributed alms. To any
one who knows even the least about friars, this story
would at once carry its own condemnation ; but a
friar, or a hermit, may have solicited alms here. At
any rate, the old inn used to exhibit a very forbidding
" friar of orders grey " as its sign, dancing beneath the
oak. Stolen many years ago, it was subsequently
discovered in London by the merest accident, was
purchased for a trifling sum, and restored to its bereft
signpost. The innkeeper, however, thinking that what
befell once might happen again, himg the cherished
panel within the house, where it remains to this day.

From Friar's Oak it is but a step to that newest
creation among Brighton's suburbs, Clayton Park, its
clustering red-brick villas, building estates, and half-
formed roads adjoining the station of Hassocks Gate,
which, by the way, the railway authorities have long
since reduced to " Hassocks." The name recalls
certain dusty contrivances of straw and carpeting
artfully contrived for the devout to stumble over in
church. But, not to incur the suspicion of tripping
over the name as here applied, it may be mentioned
that " hassock " is the Anglo-Saxon name for
a coppice or small wood ; and there are really
many of these at and around Hassocks Gate to
this day.

TURNPIKE GATES

227

At Stonepound a road leads on the right to Hurst-
pierpoint, which is too big a mouthful for general
use, and so is locally " Hurst." The Pierpoints,
whose name is embedded in that of the place, like
an ammonite in a geological stratum, were long since
as extinct as those other Normans, the Monceaux
of Hurstmonceaux, and are what Americans would
term a " back number."

Stone Pound Gate

Clears Patcham Gate

St. John's and Ansty Gates

Y

Patch am Gate

Clears Stone Pound Gate,

St. John's and Ansty Gates

126

Stonepound Gate was one of the nine that at one
time barred the Brighton Road, and the last but one
on the way. It will be seen, by the specimens of turn-
pike-tickets reprinted here, that at one time, at least,
the burden of the tolls was not quite so heavy as the
mere number of the gates would lead a casual observer

228 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

to suppose, a ticket taken at Ansty " clearing " the
remaining distance, through three other gates, to
Brighton. But it was necessary for the traveller to
know his way about, and, if he were going through, to
ask for a ticket to clear to Brighton ; else the pikeman
would issue a ticket, which cost just as much, to the
next gate only, when another payment would be
demanded. These were " tricks upon travellers "
familiar to every road, and they earned the pikemen,
as a class, a very unenviable reputation.

It was here, in the great Christmas Eve snowstorm
of 1836, that the London mail was snowed up. Its
adventures illustrate the uncertainty of travelling the
roads.

In those days you took your seat on your particular
fancy in coaches, and paid your sixteen-shilling fare
from London to Brighton, or vice versa, trusting (yet
with heaviness of heart) in Providence to bring you
to a happy issue from all the many dangers and
discomforts of travelling. Occasionally it was brought
honje, by storm and flood, to those learned enough to
know it, that " travelling " derived originally from
" travail," and the discomforts of leaving one's own
fireside in the winter are emphasized and underscored
in the particulars of what befell at Stonepound in
the great snowstorm of December 24th, 1 836 — a storm
that paralysed communications throughout the king-
dom.

" The Brighton up-mail of Sunday had travelled
about eight miles from that town, when it fell into a
drift of snow, from which it was impossible to extricate
it without assistance. The guard immediately set off
to obtain all necessary aid, but when he returned no
trace whatever could be found, either of the coach,
coachman or passengers, three in number. After
much difficulty the coach was found, but could not
be extricated from the hollow into which it had got.
The guard did not reach London until seven o'clock
on Tuesday night, having been obliged to travel with
the bags on horseback, and in many instances to leave

CLAYTON TUNNEL ACCIDENT 229

the main road and proceed across fields in order to
avoid the deep drifts of snow.

" The passengers, coachman, and guard slept at
Clayton, seven miles from Brighton. The road from
Hand Cross was quite impassable. The non-arrival of
the mail at Crawley induced the postmaster there to
send a man in a gig to ascertain the cause on Monday
afternoon, and no tidings being heard of man, gig, or
horse for several hours, another man was despatched
on horseback. After a long search he found horse and
gig completely built up in the snow. The man was in
an exhausted state. After considerable difficulty the
horse and gig were extricated, and the party returned
to Crawley. The man had learned no tidings of the
mail, and refused to go out again on any such exploring
mission."

The Brighton mail from London, too, reached
Crawley, but was compelled to return.

Such were the incidents upon which the Christmas
stories, of the type brought into favour by Dickens,
were built, but the stories are better to read than the
incidents to experience. I am retrospectively sorry
for those passengers who thus lost their Christmas
dinners ; but after all, it was better to miss the turkey
and the Christmas pudding than to be " mashed into
a pummy " in railway accidents, such as the awful
heart-shaking series of collisions which took place on
Sunday, August 25th, 1861, in the railway tunnel
through Clayton Hill. On that day, in that gloomy
place, twenty-four persons lost their lives, and one
hundred and seventy-five were injured.

Three trains were timed to leave Brighton station
on that fatal morning, two of them filled to crowding
with excursionists ; the other, an ordinary train, well
filled and bound for London. Their times for starting
were 8, 8.5, and 8.30 respectively, but owing to delays
occasioned by press of traffic, they did not set out until
considerably later, at 8.28, 8.31, and 8.35. At such
terribly short intervals were they started, in times

230 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

when no block system existed to render such close
following comparatively safe.

Clayton Tunnel was already considered a dangerous
place, and there was situated at either end (north and
south entrances) a signal-cabin furnished with tele-
graphic instruments and signal apparatus, by which
the signalman at one end of the tunnel could com-
municate with his fellow at the other, and could
notify " train in " or " train out " as might happen.
This practically formed a primitive sort of " block
system," especially devised for use in this mile and a
quarter's dark burrow.

A " self-acting " signal placed in the cutting some
distance from the southern entrance was supposed,
upon the passage of every train, to set itself at
" danger " for any following, until placed at " line
clear " from the nearest cabin, but on this occasion
the first train passed in, and the self-acting signal
failed to act.

The second train, following upon the heels of the
first, passed all unsuspecting, and dashed from daylight
into the tunnel's mouth, the signalman, who had not
received a message from the other end of the tunnel
being clear, frantically waving his red flag to stop it.
This signal apparently unnoticed by the driver, the
train passed in.

At this moment the third train came into view, and
at the same time the signalman was advised of the
tunnel being clear of the first. Meanwhile, the driver
of the second train, who had noticed the red flag, was,
unknown to the signalman, backing his train out again.
A message was sent to the north cabin for it, " train
in " ; but the man there, thinking this to be a mere
repetition of the first, replied, " train out," referring,
of course, to the first train.

The tunnel being to the southern signalman apparent-
ly clear, the third train was allowed to proceed, and
met, midway, away from daylight, the retreating second
train. The collision was terrible ; the two rearward
carriages of the second train were smashed to pieces,

THE SOUTH DOWNS 231

and the engine of the third, reared upon their wreck,
poured fire and steani and sealding water upon the
poor wretches who, wounded but not killed by
the impact, were struggling to free themselves
from the splintered and twisted remains of the two
carriages.

The heap of wreckage was piled up to the roof of
the tunnel, whose interior presented a dreadful scene,
the engine fire throwing a wild glare around, but
partly obscured by the blinding, scalding clouds of
steam ; while this suddenly created Inferno resounded
with the prayers, shrieks, shouts, and curses of injured
and scatheless alike, all fearful of the coming of another
train to add to the already sufficiently hideous ruin.

Fortunately no further catastrophe occurred ; but
nothing of horror w as wanting, neither in the magnitude
nor in the circumstances of the disaster, which long
remained in the memories of those who read and was
impossible ever to be forgotten by those who witnessed
It.

XXX

From these levels at Stonepound the South Downs
come full upon the view, crowned at Clayton Hill
with windmills. Ditchling Beacon to the left, and
the more commanding height of Wolstonbury to the
extreme right, flank this great wall of earth, chalk, and
grass — Wolstonbury semicircular in outline and bare,
save only for some few clumps of yellow gorse and other
small bushes.

Just where the road bends, and, crossing the railway,
begins to climb Clayton Hill, the Gothic, battlemented
entrance to Clayton Tunnel looms with a kind of
scowling picturesqueness, well suited to its dark
history, continually vomiting steam and smoke, like
a hell's mouth.

Above it rises the hill, with telegraph-poles and
circular brick ventilating-shafts going in a long

232 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

perspective above the chalky cutting in the road ; and
on the left hand the little rustic church of Clayton,
humbly crouching under the lee of the downs.

" Clayton Hill ! " It was a word of dread among
cyclists until, say, the year 1900, when rim- and back-
pedalling brakes superseded the inefficient spoon-
brake, acting on the front tyre. Coming from Brighton,
the hill drops steeply into the Weald of Sussex, and
not only steeply, but the road takes a sudden and
perilous turn over the railway bridge, at the foot of
the descent, precisely where descending vehicles not
under control attain their greatest speed. Here many
a cyclist has been flung against the brick wall of the
bridge, and his machine broken and himself injured ;
and seven have met their death here. Even in these
days of good brakes a fatality has occurred, a cyclist
being killed in November, 1902, in a collision with a
trap.

From the summit of the downs the Weald is seen,
spread out like a pictorial map, the little houses, the
little trees, the ribbon-like roads looking like dainty
models ; the tiny trains moving out of Noah's Ark
stations and vehicles crawling the highways like
objects in a minature land of make-believe. Looking
southward, Brighton is seen — a pillar of smoke by day,
a glowing, twinkling light at evening ; but for all it is
so near, it has very little affected the old pastoral
country life of the downland villages. The shepherds,
carrying as of yore their Pyecombe crooks, still tend
huge flocks of sheep, and the dull and hollow music
of the sheep-bells remains as ev er the characteristic
sound of the district. Next year the sheep vi'ill be
shorn, just as they were when the Saxon churls worked
for their Norman masters, and, unless a cataclysm of
nature happens, they will continue so to be shorn
centuries hence.

But the shepherds have ceased to be vocal with the
sheep-shearing songs of yore ; it seems that their
modern accomplishment of being able to read has
stricken them dumb. Neither the words nor the airs

234 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

of the old shearing-songs will ever again awaken the
echoes in the daytime, nor make the roomy interiors
of barns ring o' nights, as they were wont to do lang-
syne, when the convivial shearing supper was held,
and the ale hummed in the cup, and, later in the
evening, in the head also.

But the Sussex peasant is by no means altogether
bereft of his ancient ways. He is, in the more secluded
districts, still a South Saxon ; for the county, until
comparatively recent times remote and difficult,
plunged in its sloughs and isolated by reason of its
forests, has no manufactures, and the rural parts do
not attract immigrants from the shires, to leaven his
peculiarities. The Sussex folk are still rooted firmly
in what Drayton calls their " queachy ground."
Words of Saxon origin are still the staple of the country
talk ; folk-tales, told in times when the South Saxon
kingdom was yet a power of the Heptarchy, exist in
remote corners, currently with the latest ribald song
from the London halls ; superstitions linger, as may
be proved by he who pursues his inquiries judiciously,
and thought moves slowly still in the bucolic mind.

The Norman Conquest left few traces upon the
population, and the peasant is still the Saxon he ever
has been ; his occupations, too, tend to slowness of
speech and mind. The Sussex man is by the very
rarest chance engaged in any manufacturing industries.
He is by choice and by force of circumstances plough-
man, woodman, shepherd, market-gardener, or carter,
and is become heavy as his soil, and curiously old-
world in habit. All which traits are delightful to the
preternaturally sharp Londoner, whose nerves occupy
the most important place in his being. These country
folk are new and interesting creatures for study to
him who is weary of that acute product of civilisation
— the London arab.

Sussex ways are, many of them, still curiously
patriarchal. But a few years ago, and ploughing was
commonly performed in these fields by oxen.

Their cottages that, until a few years ago, were the

236 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

same as ever, have recently been very largely rebuilt,
much to the sorrow of those who love the picturesque.
They were thatched, for the most part, or tiled, or
roofed with stone slabs. A living-room with yawning
fireplace and capacious settle was the chief feature of
them. The floor was covered with red bricks. When
the settle was drawn up to the cheerful blaze the
interior was cosy. But many of the most picturesque
cottages were damp and insanitary, and although they
pleased the artist to look at, it by no means followed
that they would have contented him to live in.

Outside, in the garden, grew homely flowers and
useful vegetables, and perhaps by the gnarled apple-
tree there stood in the sun a row of bee-hives. Sussex
superstition declared that they might, indeed, be
purchased, but not for silver :

If you wish your bees to thrive.

Gold must be paid for ev'ry hive ;

For when they're bought with otlier money.

There will be neither swarm nor houey.

The year was one long round of superstitious customs
and observances, and it is not without them, even
now. But superstition is shy and not visible on the
surface.

In January began the round, for from Christmas
Eve to Twelfth Day was the proper time for " worsling,"
that is " wassailing " the orchards, but more
particularly the apple-trees. The country-folk would
gather round the trees and chant in chorus, rapping
the trunks the while with sticks :

stand fast root, bear well top ;

Pray, good God, send us a howling crop

Ev'ry twig, apples big ;

Ev'ry bough, apples cuow' ;

Hats full, caps full.

Full quarters, sacks full.

These wassailing folk were generally known as
" howlers " ; " doubtless rightly," says a Sussex
archaeologist, " for real old Sussex music is in a minor
key, and can hardly be distinguished from howling."

OLD SUSSEX WAYS 287

This knowledge enlightens our reading of the pages
of the Rev. Giles Moore, of Horsted Keynes, when he
records : " 1670, 26th Dec., I gave the howling
boys 6d. ; " a statement which, if not illumined by
acquaintance with these old customs, would be
altogether incomprehensible.

Then, if mud were brought into the house in the
month of January, the cleanly housewife, at other
times jealous of her spotless floors, would have nothing
of reproof to say, for was this not " January butter,"
and the harbinger of luck to all beneath the roof-tree ?

Saints' days, too, had their observances ; the habits
of bird and beast were the almanacs and weather
warnings of the villagers, all innocent of any other
meteorological department, and they have been
handed down in doggerel rhyme, like this of the Cuckoo,
to the present day :

In April he shows his bill.

In May he sings o' night and day,

In June he'll change his tune,

By July prepare to fly.

By August away he must.

If he stay till September,

'Tls as much as the oldest man

Can ever remember.

If he stayed till September, he might possibly see
a sight which no mere human eye ever beheld : he
might observe a practice to which old Sussex folk
know the Evil One to be addicted. For on Old
Michaelmas Day, October 10th, the Devil goes round
the country, and — dirty devil — spits on the black-
berries. Should any persons eat one on October 11th,
they, or some one of their kin, will surely die or fall
into great trouble before the close of the year.

Sussex has neither the imaginative Celtic race of
Cornwall nor that county's fantastic scenery to inspire
legends ; but is it at all wonderful that old beliefs die
hard in a county so inaccessible as this has hitherto
been ? We have read travellers' tales of woful
happenings on the road ; hear now Defoe, who is
writing in the year 1724, of another jiroof of heavy

238 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

going on the highways : " I saw," says he, " an ancient
lady, and a lady of very good quality, I assure you,
drawn to church in her coach by six oxen ; nor was
it done in frolic or humour, but from sheer necessity,
the way being so stiff and deep that no horses could
go in it." All which says much for the piety of this
ancient lady. Only a few years later, in 1729, died
Dame Judith, widow of Sir Henry Hatsell, who in
her will, dated January 10th, 1728, directed that her
body should be buried at Preston, should she happen
to die at such a time of year when the roads
were passable ; otherwise, at any place her executors
might think suitable. It so happened that she died
in the month of June, so compliance with her wishes
was possible.

XXXI

AxD now to trace the Hickstead and Bolney route
from Hand Cross, that parting of the ways overlooking
the most rural parts of Sussex. Hand Cross, it has
already been said, is in the parish of Slaugham, which
lies deep down in a very sequestered wood, where the
head-springs issuing from the hillsides are never dry
and the air is always heavy with moisture.
" Slougham-cum-Crole " is the title of the place in
ancient records, " Crole " being Crawley. It was from
its ancient bogs and morasses that it obtained its
name, pronounced by the natives " Slaffam," and it
was certainly due to them that the magnificent manor-
house — almost a palace — of the Coverts, the old lords
of the manor — was deserted and began to fall to pieces
so soon as built.

The Coverts, now and long since utterly extinct,
were once among the most powerful, as they were also
among the noblest, in the county. They were of
Norman descent, and, to use a well-worn phrase,
" came over with the Conqueror " ; but they are not

240 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

found settled here until towards the close of the
fifteenth century, being preceded, as lords of the manor,
by the Poynings of Poynings, and by the Berkeleys
and Stanleys. Sir Walter Covert, to whose ancestors
the manor fell by marriage, was the builder of that
Slaugham Place whose ruins yet remain to show his
idea of what was due to a landed proprietor of his
standing. They cover, within their enclosing walls of
red brick, which rise from the yet partly filled moat,
over three acres of what is now orchard and meadow-
land. In spring the apple trees bloom pink and white
amid the grey and lichen-stained ashlar of the ruined
walls and arches of Palladian architecture, and the
lush grass grows tall around the cold hearths of the
roofless rooms. The noble gateway leads now, not
from courtyard to hall, but doorless, with its massive
stones wrenched apart by clinging ivy, stands merely
as some sort of key to the enigma of ground plan
presented by walls ruinated in greater part to the
level of the watery turf.

The singular facts of high wall and moat surrounding
a mansion of Jacobean build seem to point to an
earlier building, contrived with these defences when
men thought first of security and afterwards of comfort.
Some few muUioned windows of much earlier date
than the greater part of the mansion remain to confirm
the thought.

That a building of the magnificence attested by
these crumbling walls should have been allowed to
fall into decay so shortly after its completion is a
singular fact. Though the male line of the Coverts
failed, and their estates passed, by the marriage of
their womankind, into other hands, yet their alienation
would not necessarily imply the destruction of their
roof-tree. The explanation is to be sought in the
situation and defects of the ground upon which
Slaugham Place stood : a marshy tract of land,
which no builder of to-day would think of selecting
as a site for so important a dwelling. Home as it was
of swamps and damps, and quashy as it is even now,

242 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

it must have been in the past the breeding-ground of
agues and chills innumerable.

A true exemplar this of that Sussex of which in
1690 a barrister on circuit, whose profession led him
by evil chance into this county, writes to his wife :
" The Sussex ways are bad and ruinous beyond
imagination. I vow 'tis melancholy consideration
that mankind will inhabit such a heap of dirt for a
poor livelihood. The county is in a sink of about
fourteen miles broad, which receives all the water that
falls from the long ranges of hills on both sides of it,
and not being furnished with convenient draining, is
kept moist and soft by the water till the middle of a
dry summer, which is only able to make it tolerable to
ride for a short time."

Such soft and shaky earth as this could not bear
the weight of so ponderous a structure as was Slaugham
Place : the swamps pulled its masonry apart and
rotted its fittings. Despairing of victory over the
reeking moisture, its owners left it for healthier sites.
Then the rapacity of all those neighbouring folk who
had need of building* material completed the havoc
wrought by natural forces, and finally Slaugham
Place became what it is to-day. Its clock-tower was
pulled down and removed to Cuckfield Park, where it
now spans the entrance drive of that romantic spot,
and its handsomely carved Jacobean stairway is to-day
the pride and glory of the " Star " Hotel at
Lewes.

The Coverts are gone ; their heraldic shields, in
company of an architectural frieze of greyhounds' and
leopards' heads and skulls of oxen wreathed in drapery,
still decorate what remains of the north front of their
mansion, and their achievements are repeated u})on
their tombs within the little church of Slaugham on
the hillside. You may, if heraldically versed, learn
from their quarterings into what families they married ;
but the deeds they wrought, and their virtues and
their vices, are, for the most part, clean forgotten,
even as their name is gone out of the land, who once,

244

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

as tradition has it, travelled southward from London
to the sea on their own manors.

The squat, shingled spirelet of Slaugham Church
and its decorated architecture mark the spot where
many of this knightly race lie buried. In the Covert
Chapel is the handsome brass of John Covert, who died
in 1503 ; and in the north wall of the chancel is the
canopied altar-tomb of Richard Covert, the much-
married, who died in l.")47, and is represented, in
company of three of his four wives, by little brass
effigies, together with a curious brass representing
the Saviour rising from the tomb, guarded by armed
knights of weirdly-humorous aspect, the more diverting
because executed all innocent of joke or irreverence.

Here is a rubbing, nothing exaggerated, of one of
these guardian knights, to bear me up.

Another Richard, but twice married, who died in
1579, is com-
memorated in a
large and elab-
orate monument
in the Covert
Chapel, whereon
are sculptured,
in an attitude
of prayer,
Richard him-
self, his two
wiv^es, six sons,
and eight
daughters.

Last of the
Coverts whose
name is per-
petuated here
is Jane, who

/^^ppQcpri 111

1586^ FROM A BRASS AT SLAUGHAM.

Beside these
things, Slaugham claims some interest as containing

246 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

the mansion of Ashfold, where once resided Mrs.
Matcham, a sister of Nelson. Indeed, it was while
staying here that the Admiral received the summons
which sped him on his last and most glorious and fatal
voyage. Slaugham, too, with St. Leonard's Forest,
contributes a title to the peerage. Lord St. Leonards'
creation being of " Slaugham, in the county of Sussex."

XXXII

This route to Brighton is singularly rural and lovely,
and particularly beautiful in the way of copses and
wooded hollows, whence streamlets trickle away to
join the river Adur. Villages lie shyly just off its
course, and must be sought, only an occasional inn or
smithy, or the lodge-gates of modern estates called
into existence since the making of the road in 1813,
breaking the solitude. The existence of Bolney itself
is only hinted at by the pinnacles of its church tower
peering o^"e^ the topmost branches of distant trees.
" Bowlney," as the countryfolk pronounce the name,
is worth a little detour, for it is a compact, picturesque
spot that might almost have been designed by an
artist with a single thought for pictorial composition,
so well do its trees, the houses, old and new, the
church, and the " Eight Bells " inn, group for effect.
Down the road, rather over a mile distant from
Bolney, and looking so remarkably picturesque from
the highway that even the least preoccupied with
antiquities must needs stop and admire, is Hickstead
Place, a small but beautiful residence, the seat of Miss
Davidson, dating from the time of Henry the Seventh,
with a curious detached building in two (loors, of the
same or even somewhat earlier period, on the lawn ;
remarkable for the large vitrified bricks in its gables,
worked into rough crosses and supposed to indicate a
former use as a chapel. History, however, is silent
that point ; but, as the inquirer may discover for

248 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

himself, it now fulfils the twin offices of a studio and
a lumber room. The parish church of Twineham,
little more than a mile away, is of the same period,
and built of similar materials. Hickstead Place has
been in the same family for close upon four hundred
years, and as an old house without much in the way
of a history, and with its ancient features largely
retained and adapted to modern domestic needs, is a
striking example both of the continuity and the
placidity of English life. The staircase walls are
frescoed in a blue monochrome with sixteenth-century
representations of field-sports and hunting scenes, very
curious and interesting. The roof is covered with
slabs of Horsham stone, and the oak entrance is
original. Ancient yews, among them one clipped to
resemble a bear sitting on his rump, give an air of
distinction to the lawn, completed by a pair of
eighteenth-century wrought-iron gates between red
brick pillars.

Sayers Common is a modern hamlet, of a few
scattered houses. Albourne lies away to the right.
From here the Vale of Newtimber opens out and the
South Downs rise grandly ahead. Noble trees, singly
and in groups, grow plentiful ; and where they are at
their thickest, in the sheltered hollow of the hills,
stands Newtimber Place, belonging to Viscount Buxton,
a noble mansion with Queen Anne front of red brick
and flint, and an Elizabethan back, surrounded by a
broad moat of clear water, formed by embanking the
beginnings of a little stream that comes welling out of
the chalky bosom of the hills. It is a rarely complete
and beautiful scene.

Beyond it, above the woods where in spring the
fluting blackbird sings of love and the delights of a
mossy nest in the sheltered vale, rises Dale Hill, with
its old toll-house. It was in the neighbouring Dale
Vale that Tom Sayers, afterwards the unconquered
champion of England, fought his first fight.

He was not, as often stated, an Irishman, but the
son of a man descended from a thoroughly Sussexian.

250 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

stock. The name of Sayers is well known throughout
Sussex, and in particular at Hand Cross, Burgess Hill,
and Hurstpierpoint. There is even, as we have already
seen, a Sayers Common on the road. Tom Sayers,
however, was born at Brighton. He worked as a
bricklayer at building the Preston Viaduct of the
Brighton and Lewes Railway : that great viaduct
which spans the Brighton Road as you enter the town.
He retired in 1860, after his fight with Heenan, and
when he died, in 1865, the reputation of prize-fighting
died with him.

At the summit of Dale Hill stands Pyecombe,
above the junction of roads, on the rounded shoulder
of the downs. The little rubbly and flinty churches
of Pyecombe, Patcham, Preston, and Clayton are very
similar in appearance exteriorly and all are provided
with identical towers finished off with a shingled
spirelet of insignificant proportions. This little
Norman church, consisting of a tiny nave and chancel
only, is chiefly interesting as possessing a triple chancel
arch and an ancient font.

Over the chancel arch hangs a painting of the Royal
Arms, painted in the time of George the Third, faded
and tawdry, with dandified imicorn and a gamboge
lion, all teeth and mane, regarding the congregation
on Sundays, and empty benches at other times, with
the most amiable of grins. It is quite typical of
Pyecombe that those old Royal Arms should still
remain ; for the place is what it was then, and then it
doubtless was what it had been in the days of good
Queen Anne, or even of Elizabeth, to go no further
back. The grey tower tops the hill as it has done
since the Middle Ages, the few cottages cluster about it
as of yore, and only those who lived in those humble
homes, or reared that church, are gone. Making the
circuit of the church, I look upon the stone quoins and
the bedded flints of those walls ; and as I think how
they remain, scarce grizzled by the weathering of
countless storms, and how those builders are not
merely gone, but are as forgotten as though they had

252 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

never existed, I could have it in my heart to hate the
insensate handiwork of man, to which he has given
an existence : the unfeeUng walls of stone and flint
and mortar that can outlast him and the memory of
him by, it may well be, a thousand years.

XXXIII

From Pyecombe we come through a cleft in the great
chalk ridge of the South Downs into the country of
the " deans." North and South of the Downs are two
different countries — so different that if they were
inhabited by two peoples and governed by two rulers
and a frontier ran along the ridge, it would seem no
strange thing. But both are England, and not merely
England, but the same county of Sussex. It is a
wooded, Wealden district of deep clay we have left,
and a hungry, barren land of chalk we enter. But it is
a sunny land, where the grassy shoulders of the mighty
downs, looking southward, catch and retain the heat,
and almost make you believe Brighton to be named
from its bright and lively skies, and not from that
very shadowy Anglo-Saxon saint, Brighthelm.

The country of the deans is, in general, a barren
country. Every one knows Brighton and its neighbour-
hood to be places where trees are rare enough to be
curiosities, but in this generally treeless land there are
hollows and shallow valleys amid the dry chalky
hillsides where little boscages form places for the eye,
tired of much bright dazzling sunlight, to rest. These
are the deans. Very often they have been made the
sites of villages ; and all along this southern aspect
of these hills of the Sussex seaboard you will find deans
of various qualifications, from East Dean and West
Dean, by Eastbourne, to Denton (which is, of course
" Dean-ton ") near Newhaven, Rottingdean, Oving-
dean, Balsdean, Standean, Roedean, and the two that
are strung along these last miles into Brighton —

THE DEANS 258

Pangdean and Withdean. Most of these show the
same characteristics of clustered woodlands in a
sheltered fold of the hills, where a grey little flinty
church with stunted spirelet presides over a few large
farms and a group of little cottages. Time and
circumstance have changed those that do not happen
to conform to this general rule ; and, as ill luck will
have it, our first " dean " is one of these nonconformists.

Pangdean is a hamlet situated in that very forbidding
spot where the downs are at their baldest, and where
the chalk-heaps turned up in the making of the
Brighton Railway call aloud for the agricultural
equivalent of Tatcho and its rivals. It is little more
than an unkempt farm and a roadside pond of dirty
water where acrobatic ducks perform astonishing
feats of agility, standing on their heads and exhibiting
their posteriors in the manner of their kind. But
within sight, down the stretch of road, is Patcham,
and beyond it the hamlet of Withdean, more conform-
able.

Why Patcham is not nominally, as it is actually
in form and every other circumstance, a " dean " is
not clear. There it lies in the vale, just as a dean
should and does do ; with sheltering ridges about it,
and in the hollow the church, the cottages, and the
woodlands. Very noble woodlands, too : tall elms
with clanging rookeries, and, nestling below them, an
old toll-house.

Not so very old a toll-house, for it was the successor
of Preston turnpike-gate which, erected on the out-
skirts of Brighton town about 1807, was removed north
of Withdean in 1854, as the result of an agitation set
afoot in 1853, when the Highwa}^ Trustees were
applying to Parliament for another term of years.
It and its legend " NO TRUST," painted large for all
the world to see, and hateful in a world that has ever
preferred credit, were a nuisance and a gratuitous
satire upon human nature. No one regretted them
when their time came, December 31st, 1878 : least of
all the early cyclists, who had the luxury of paying

254

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

at Patchani Gate, and yielded their " tupjoences "
with what grace they might.

On the less hallowed north side of the churchyard
of Patcham may still with difficulty be spelled the
inscription :

Sacred to the memory of DANIEL SCALES,

who was unfortiinately shot on Thursday evening,

November 7th, 1796.

Alas ! swift flew the fatal lead.

Which pierefed through the young man's head.

He instant fell, resigned his breath.

And closed his languid eyes in death.

All you who do this stone draw near.

Oh ! pray let fall the pitying tear.

From this sad instance may we all.

Prepare to meet Jehovah's call.

It is a relic of those lawless old days of smuggling
that are so dear to youthful minds. Youth, like the
Irish peasant, is always anarchist and " agin the
Government " ; and certainly the deeds of derring-do
that were wrought by smuggler and Revenue officer
alike sometimes stir even middle-aged blood.

Smuggling was rife here. Where, indeed, was it
not in those times ? and Daniel Scales was the most
desperate of a
daring gang. The
night when he was
"unfortunately
shot," he, with
many others of
the gang, was
coming from
Brighton laden
heavily with
smuggled goods,
and on the way
they fell in with
a number of
soldiers and excise
officers, near this

place. The smugglers fled, leaving their casks of
liquor to take care of themselves, careful only to

OLD DOVECOT, PATCHAM.

PRESTON 255

make good their own escape, saving only Daniel Scales,
who, met by a " riding officer," was called upon to
surrender himself and his booty, which he refused to
do. The officer, who himself had been in early days
engaged in many smuggling transactions, but was now
a brand plucked from the burning, and zealous for
King and (Customs, knew that Daniel was " too good a
man for him, for they had tried it out before," so he
shot him through the head ; and as the bullet, like
those in the nursery rhyme, was made of " lead, lead,
lead," Daniel was killed. Alas ! poor Daniel.

An ancient manorial pigeon-house or dovecot still
remains at Patcham, sturdily built of Sussex ffints,
banded with brick, and wonderfully buttressed.

Preston is now almost wholly urban, but its Early
English church, although patched and altered, still
keeps its fresco representing the murder of Thomas a
Becket, and that of an angel disputing with the Devil
for the possession of a departed soul. The angel,
like some celestial grocer, is weighing the shivering
soul in the balance, while the Devil, sitting in one
scale, makes the unfortunate soul in the other " kick
the beam."

XXXIV

It has very justly been remarked that Brighton is
treeless, but that complaint by no means holds good
respecting the approach to it through Withdean and
Preston Park, which is exceptionally well wooded, the
tall elms forming an archway infinitely more lovable
than the gigantic brick arch of the railway viaduct
that poses as a triumphal entry into the town.

It is Brighton's ever-open front door. No occasion
to knock or ring ; enter and welcome to that cheery
town : a brighter, cleaner London.

Brighton has renewed its youth. It has had ill
fortune as well as good, and went through a middle

256

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

period when, deserted by Royalty, and not yet fully
won to a broader popularity, its older houses looked
shabby and its newer mean. But that period has
passed. What remains of the age of George the
Fourth has with the lapse of time and the inevitable
changes in taste, become almost archicologically
interesting, and the newer Brighton approaches a

PRESTON VIADUCT : ENTRANCE TO BRIGHTON.

Parisian magnificence and display. The Pavilion of
George the Fourth was the last word in gorgeousness
of his time, but it wears an old-maidish appearance of
dowdiness in midst of the Brighton of the twentieth
century.

The Pavilion is of course the very hub of Brighton.
The pilgrim from London comes to it past the great
church of St. Peter, built in 1824, in a curious Gothic,
and thence past the Level to the Old Steyne. The
names of the terraces and rows of houses on either
side proclaim their period, even if those characteristic

BRIGHTON 257

semicircular bayed fronts did not : they are York
Place, Hanover Terrace, Gloucester Place, Adelaide
this, Caroline that, and Brunswick t'other : all names
associated with the late Georgian period.

The Old Steyne was in Florizel's time the rendezvous
of fashion. The " front " and the lawns of Hove have
long since usurped that distinction, but the gardens
and the old trees of the Old Steyne are more beautiful
than ever. They are the only few the town itself can
boast.

Treeless Brighton has been the derision alike of
Doctor Johnson and Tom Hood, to name no others.
Johnson, who first visited Brighton in 1770 in the
company of the Thrales and Fanny Burney, declared
the neighbourhood to be so desolate that " if one had
a mind to hang one's self for desperation at being
obliged to live there, it would be difficult to find a tree
on which to fasten a rope," At any rate it would
have needed a particularly stout tree to serve Johnson's
turn, had he a mind to it. Johnson was an ingrate,
and not worthy of the good that Doctor Brighton
wrought upon him.

Hood, on the other hand, is jocular in an airier and
lighter-hearted fashion. His punning humour (a kind
of witticism which Johnson hated with the hatred of a
man who delved deep after Greek and Latin roots) is
to Johnson's as the footfall of a cat to the earth-
shaking tread of the elephant. His, too, is a manner
of gibe that is susceptible of being construed into praise
by the townsfolk. " Of all the trees," says he, " I
ever saw, none could be mentioned in the same breath
with the magnificent beach at Brighton."

But though these trees of the Pavilion give a grateful
shelter from the glare of the sun and the roughness of
the wind, they hide little of the tawdriness of that
architectural enormity. The gilding has faded, the
tinsel become tarnished, and the whole pile of cupolas
and minarets is reduced to one even tint, that is not
white nor grey, nor any distinctive shade of any
colour. How the preposterous building could ever
R

258 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

have been admired (as it undoubtedly was at one time)
surpasses belief. Its cost, one shrewdly suspects — it is
supposed to have cost over £1,000,000 — was what
appealed to the imagination.

That reptile Croker, the creature of that Lord
Hertford whom one recognises as the " Marquis of
Steyne " in " Vanity Fair," admired it, as assuredly
did not rough-and ready Cobbett, who opines, " A good
idea of the building may be formed by placing the
pointed half of a large turnip upon the middle of a
board, with four smaller ones at the corners."

That is no bad description of this monument of
extravagance and bad taste. Begun so early as 1784,
it was, after many alterations, pullings-down and
rebuildings, completed in 1818, with the exception of
the north gate, the work of William the Fourth in 1832.

The Pavilion was, in fact, the product of an ill-
informed enthusiasm for Chinese architecture, mingled
with that of India and Constantinople, and was built
as a Marine Palace, to combine the glories of the
Summer Palace at Pekin with those of the Alhambra.
It suffers nowadays, much more than it need do, from
the utter absence of exterior colouring. A judicious
scheme of brilliant colour and gilding, in accordance
with its style, would not only relieve the dull drab
monotone, but would go some way to justify the
Prince's taste.

But, be it what it may, the Pavilion set the seal of
a certain permanence upon the princely and royal
favours extended to the town, whose population,
numbered at 2,000 in 1761 and 3,600 in 1786, had
grown to 5,669 by 1794 and 12,012 in 1811. In the
succeeding ten years it had more than doubled itself,
being returned in 1821 at 24,429. How Georgian
Brighton is wholly swallowed up and engulfed in the
modem towns of Brighton, Hove, and Preston is seen
in the present population of 161,000 — the equivalent
of nearly six other Brightons of the size of that in the
last year of the reign of George the Fourth.

260 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

One of the best stories connected with the Pavilion
is that told so well in the " Four Georges " :

" And now I have one more story of the bacchanalian
sort, in which Clarence and York and the very highest
personage in the realm, the great Prince Regent, all
play parts.

" The feast was described to me by a gentleman who
was present at the scene. In Gilray's caricatures, and
amongst Fox's jolly associates, there figures a great
nobleman, the Duke of Norfolk, called Jockey of
Norfolk in his time, and celebrated for his table
exploits. He had quarrelled with the Prince, like
the rest of the Whigs ; but a sort of reconciliation
had taken place, and now, being a very old man, the
Prince invited him to dine and sleep at the Pavilion,
and the old Duke drove over from his Castle of Arundel
with his famous equipage of grey horses, still
remembered in Sussex.

" The Prince of Wales had concocted with his royal
brothers a notable scheme for making the old man
drunk. Every person at table was enjoined to drink
wine with the Duke — a challenge which the old toper
did not refuse. He soon began to see that there was
a conspiracy against him ; he drank glass for glass :
he overthrew many of the brave. At last the first
gentleman of Europe proposed bumpers of brandy.
One of the royal brothers filled a great glass for the
Duke. He stood up and tossed off the drink. ' Now,'
says he, ' I will have my carriage and go home.'

" The Prince urged upon him his previous promise
to sleep under the roof where he had been so generously
entertained. ' No,' he said ; ' he had had enough of
such hospitality. A trap had been set for him ; he
would leave the place at once, and never enter its doors
more.'

" The carriage was called, and came ; but, in the
half-hour's interval, the liquor had proved too potent
for the old man ; his host's generous purpose was
answered, and the Duke's old grey head lay stupefied
on the table. Nevertheless, when his post-chaise was

CHARLES, DUKE OF NORFOLK 261

announced, he staggered to it as well as he could, and,
stumbling in, bade the postilions drive to Arundel.

" They drove him for half an hour round and round
the Pavilion lawn ; the poor old man fancied he was
going home.

" When he awoke that morning, he was in a bed
at the Prince's hideous house at Brighton. You may
see the place now for sixpence ; they have fiddlers
there every day, and sometimes buffoons and mounte-
banks hire the Riding-House and do their tricks and
tumbling there. The trees are still there, and the
gravel walks round which the poor old sinner was
trotted."

Very telling indignation, no doubt, but the gross
defect of Thackeray's " Four Georges " is its want of
sincerity. Sympathy is wasted on that Duke, who
was one of the filthiest voluptuaries of his age, or of
any other since that of Heliogabalus. Charles Howard,
eleventh Duke of Norfolk, was not merely a bestial
drunkard, like his father before him, capable of drinking
all his contemporaries under the table ; but was a
swinish creature in every way. Gorging himself to
repletion with food and drink, he would make himself
purposely sick, in order to begin again. A contem-
porary account of him as a member of the Beefsteak
Club described him as a man of huge unwieldy fatness,
who, having gorged until he had eaten himself into
incapacity for speaking or moving, would motion for a
bell to be rung, when servants, entering with a litter,
would carry him off to bed. It was well written of
him :

On Norfolk's tomb inscribe this placard :
He lived a beast and died a blackguard.

This " very old," " poor old man " of Thackeray's
misplaced sympathy did not, as a matter of fact, live
to a very great age. He died in 1815, aged sixty-nine.

Practical joking was elevated to the status of a
fine art at Brighton by the Prince and his merry men.
A characteristic story of him is that told of a drive to
Brighton races, when he was accompanied in his great

262 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

yellow barouche by Townsend, the Bow Street runner,
who was present to protect the Prince from insult or
robbery at the hands of the multitude. " It was a
position," says my authority, " which gave His Royal
Highness an opportunity to practise upon his guardian
a somewhat unpleasant joke. Turning suddenly to
Townsend, just at the termination of a race, he
exclaimed, ' By Jove, Townsend, I've been robbed ;
I had with me some damson tarts, but they are now
gone.' ' Gone ! ' said Townsend, rising ; ' impossible ! '
' Yes,' rejoined the Prince, ' and you are the purloiner,'
at the same time taking from the seat whereon the
officer had been sitting the crushed crust of the asserted
missing tarts, and adding, ' This is a sad blot upon your
reputation as a vigilant officer.' ' Rather say, your
Royal Highness, a sad stain upon my escutcheon,'
added To^vnsend, raising the gilt-buttoned tails of his
blue coat and exhibiting the fruit-stained seat of his
nankeen inexpressibles."

XXXV

But it was not this practical -joking Prince who first
discovered Brighton. It would never have attained
its great vogue without him, but it would have been
the health resort of a certain circle of fashion — an
inferior Bath, in fact. To Dr. Richard Russell — the
name sometimes spelt with one " 1 " — who visited the
little village of Brighthelmstone in 1750, belongs the
credit of discovering the place to an ailing fashionable
world. He died in 1759, long ere the sun of royal
splendour first rose upon the fishing-village ; but even
before the Prince of Wales first visited Brighthelmstone
in 1782, it had attained a certain popularity, as the
" Brighthelmstone Guide " of July, 1777, attests, in
these halting verses :

GUIDES TO BRIGHTON

265

This town or village of renown.
Like London Bridge, half broken down.
Few years ago was worse than Wapping,
Not fit for a human soxil to stop in;
But now, like to a worn-out shoe.
By patching well, the place will do.
You'd wonder much, I'm sure, to see
How it's becramm'd with quality.

And so on.

Brighthelmstone, indeed, has had more Guides
written upon it than even Bath has had, and very

DR. RICHARD RUSSELL.

From the portrait by ZoUany.

curious some of them are become in these days. They
range from lively to severe, from grave to gay, from
the serious screeds of Russell and Dr. Relhan, his
successor, to the light and airy, and not too admirable

266 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

puffs of to-day. But, however these guides may vary,
they all agree in harking back to that shadowy Bright-
helm who is supposed to have given his peculiar name
to the ancient fisher-village here established time
out of mind. In the days when " County Histories "
were first let loose, in folio volumes, upon an unoffending
land, historians, archaeologists, and other interested
parties seemed at a loss for the derivation of the place-
name, and, rather than confess themselves ignorant
of its meaning, they conspired together to invent a
Saxon archbishop, who, dying in the odour of sanctity
and the ninth century, bequeathed his appellation to
what is now known, in a contracted form, as Brighton.

But the man is not known who has unassailable
proofs to show of this Brighthelm's having so honoured
the fisher-folk's, hovels with his name,

Thackeray, greatly daring, considering that the
Fourth George is the real patron — saint, we can hardly
say ; let us make it king — of the town, elected to
deliver his lectures upon the " Four Georges " at
Brighton, among other places, and to that end made,
with monumental assurance, a personal application at
the Town Hall for the hire of the banqueting-room in
the Royal Pavilion.

But one of the Aldermen, who chanced to be present,
suggested, with extra-aldermanic wit, that the Town
Hall would be equally suitable, intimating at the same
time that it was not considered as strictly etiquette
to " abuse a man in his own house." The witty
Alderman's suggestion, we are told, was acted upon,
and the Town Hall engaged forthwith.

It argued considerable courage on the lecturer's
part to declaim against George the Fourth anywhere
in that town which His Majesty had, by his example,
conjured up from almost nothingness. It does not
seem that Thackeray was, after all, ill received at
Brighton ; whence thoughts arise as to the ingratitude
and fleeting memories of them that were either in the
first or second generation, advantaged by the royal
preference for this bleak stretch of shore beneath the

LAST OF THE REGENCY 267

bare South Downs, open to every wind that blows.
Surely gratitude is well described as a " lively sense
of favours to come," and they, no doubt, considered
that the statue they had erected in the Steyne gardens
to him was a full discharge of all obligations. Nor is
the history of that effigy altogether creditable. It was
erected in 1828, as the result of a movement among
Brighton tradesfolk in 1820, to honour the memory of
one who had incidentally made the fortunes of so
many among them ; but although the subscription
list remained open for eight years and a half, it did
not provide the £3,000 agreed upon to be paid to
Chantrey, the sculptor of it.

The bronze statue presides to-day over a cab-
rank, and the sea-salt breezes have strongly oxidised
the face to an arsenical green ; insulting, because
greenness was not a distinguishing trait in the character
of George the Fourth.

The surrounding space is saturated with memories
of the Regency ; but the roysterers are all gone and
the recollection of them is dim. Prince and King, the
Barrymores — Hellgate, Newgate, and Cripplegate —
brothers three ; Mrs. Fitzherbert, " the only woman
whom George the Fourth ever really loved," and whom
he married ; Sir John Lade, the reckless, the frolicsome,
historic in so far that he was the first who publicly
wore trousers : these, with others innumerable, are
long since silent. No more are they heard who with
unseemly revelry affronted the midnight moon, or
upset the decrepit watchman in his box. Those days
and nights are done, nor are they likely to be revived
while the Brighton policemen remain so big and
muscular.

With the death of George the Fourth the play
was played out. William the P'ourth occasionally
patronised Brighton, but decorum then obtained, and
Queen Victoria and Prince Albert not only disliked
the memory of the last of the Georges, but could not
find at the Pavilion the privacy they desired. The
Queen therefore sold it to the then Commissioners of

268 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

Brighton in 1850, for the sum of £53,000, and never
afterwards visited the town.

XXXVI

The Pavilion and the adjoining Castle Square, where
one of the old coach booking-offices still survives as a
railway receiving-office, are to most people the ultimate
expressions of antiquity at Brighton ; but there
remains one landmark of what was " Brighthelmstone "
in the ancient parish church of St. Nicholas, standing
upon the topmost eyrie of the town, and overlooking
from its crowded and now disused graveyard more
than a square mile of crowded roofs below. It is
probably the place referred to by a vivacious French-
man who, a hundred and twenty years ago, summed up
" Brigtemstone " as "a miserable village, commanded
by a cemetery and surrounded by barren mountains."
From here you can, with some trouble, catch just
a glimpse of the watery horizon through the grey haze
that rises from countless chimney-pots, and never a
breeze but blows laden with the scent of soot and
smoke. Yet, for all the changed fortune that changeful
Time has brought this hoary and grimy place, it has
not been deprived of interesting mementoes. You
may, with patience, discover the tombstone of Phccbe
Hassall, a centenarian of pith and valour, who, in her
youthful days, in male attire, joined the army of His
Majesty King George the Second and warred with her
regiment in many lands ; and all around are the
resting-places of many celebrities, who, denied a
wider fame, have yet their place in local annals ; but
prominent, in place and in fame, is the tomb of that
Captain Tettersell who (it must be owned, for a
consideration) sailed away one October morn of 1651
across the Channel, carrying with him the hope of the
clouded Royalists aboard his grimy craft.

ST. NICHOLAS. THE OLD PARISH CHURCH OF
BRIQHTHELMSTONE.

270 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

His altar-tomb stands without the southern doorway
of the church, and reads curiously to modern ears.
That not one of all the many who have had occasion
to print it has transcribed the quaintness of that
epitaph aright seems a strange thing, but so it is :

P.M.S.

Captain NICHOLAS TETTERSELL, through whose Prudence
ualour an Loyalty Charles the second King of England & after he
had escaped the sword of his merciless rebells and his florses received
a fatall ouerthrowe at Worcester Sept"- 3^ 1651, was ftaithfully
preserued & conueyed into flrance. Departed this life the 26ih day
of I\ily 1674.

-^ -^ ->

Within this monument doth lye,

Approued Ffaith, hono^ and Loyalty.

In this Cold Clay he hath now tane up his static".

At once preserued y* Church, the Crowne and nation.

When Charles ye Create was nothing but a breat^

This uaUant soule stept betweene him & death.

Usurpers threats nor tyrant rebells frowne

Could not afrright his duty to the Crowne ;

Which glorious act of his Church & state.

Eight princes in one day did Gratulate

Professing all to him in debt to bee

As all the world are to his memory

Since Earth Could not Reward his worth have give",

Hee now receiues it from the King of heauen.

The escape of Charles the Second, after many
perilous adventures, belongs to the larger sphere of
English history. Driven, after the disastrous result
of Worcester Fight, to wander, a fugitive, through
the land, he sought the coast from the extreme west
of Dorsetshire, and only when he reached Sussex did
he find it possible to embark and sail across the Channel
to France. Hunted by relentless Roundheads, and
sheltered on his way only by a few faithful adherents,
who in their loyalty risked everything for him, he at
length, with his small party, reached the village of
Brighthelmstone and lodged at the inn then called
the " George."

That evening, after much negotiation, Colonel
Gunter, the King's companion, arranged with Nicholas
Tettersell, master of a small trading craft, to convey

272 THE BRIGHTON ROAD

the King across to Fecamp, to sail in the early hours
of the following morning, October 14th. How they
sailed, and the account of their wanderings, are fully
set forth in the " narrative " of Colonel Gunter.

XXXVII

A NEW era for Brighton and the Brighton Road opened
in November, 1896, with the coming of the motor-car.
Already the old period of the coaching inns had waned,
and that of gigantic and palatial hotels, much more
luxurious than anything ever imagined by the builders
of the Pavilion, had dawned ; and then, as though to
fitly emphasize the transition, the old Chain Pier made
a dramatic end.

The Chain Pier just missed belonging to the Georgian
era, for it was not begun until October, 1822, but,
opened the following year, it had so long been a feature
of Brighton — and so peculiar a feature — that it had
come, with many, to typify the town, quite as much as
the Pavilion itself. It was, moreover, additionally
remarkable as being the first pleasure-pier built in
England. It had long been failing and, condemned
as dangerous, would soon have been demolished ; but
the storm of December 4th, 1896, spared that trouble.
It was standing when day closed in, but when the
next morning dawned, its place was vacant.

Since then, those who have long known Brighton
have never visited it without a sense of loss ; and the
Palace Pier, opposite the Aquarium, does not fill the
void. It is a vulgarity for one thing, and for another
typifies the Hebraic week-end, when the sons and
daughters of Judah descend upon the town. More-
over, it is absolutely uncharacteristic, and has its
counterparts in many other places.

But Brighton itself is eternal. It suffers change,
it grows continually ; but while the sea remains and
the air is clean and the sun shines, it, and the road to it,
will be the most popular resorts in England.

INDEX.

PAGE

Ainsworth, W. Harrison 209-222

Albourne 248

Ansty Cross 9:{, 222

Aram, Eugene 172

" Autopsy," Steam Carritige 37, 63, 88

Banks, Sir Edward 136

Banstead Downs 159-161

Barrymore, The 6, 192, 267

Belmont 159

Benhilton 156

Bicycles 64-71, 74-79, 85-91

Bird, Lieutenant Edward, murderer 169-172

Bolney 200, 243, 246

" Boneshaliers " 65

Brighton 2, 12, 37, 255-272

Railway opened 42

Road Records tabulated 88-91

Routes to 1-4

Brixton 92, 97-100

Hill 68, 93, 98, 105

Broad Green 108, 129

Burgess Hill 223

Burgh Heath 159-161

Carriers, The 11-14

Charles II 270

Charlwood 175

Chipstead 135-138

Clayton 93, 102, 231, 250

Hill 25, 229, 231-232

Tunnel 229-231

Coaches : —

Accommodation 26

Age 29, 30, 35

1852-1862 42, 45, 47

1875-1880, 1882-3 46

Alert 33, 34

Cobxirg 30

Comet 33

1887-1899, 1900 46, 49, 55

Coronet 33

Criterion 41, 64, 74, 88

Dart 33

Defiance 28, 46

1880 —

Duke of Beaufort 31

" Flying Machine," coach 18-22

Life-Preserver 30

Magnet 33

Mails, The 23, 26, 28, 33, 34, 42

Old Times, 1866 45

1888 49-51

Quicksilver 38

Red Rover 41, 63, 88

Regent 33

Sovereign 33

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

PAGE

Coaches — continued —

Times 33

Union 33

Venture (A. G. Vanderbilt) 61

Victoria 42

VigUant, 1900-05 —

Wonder 38

Coaching 5, 11-14, 18-34, 37-49, 228

Coaching Notabilities : —

Angel, B.J 45,46

Armytage, Col 45

Batchelor, Jas 14

Beaufort, Dulie of 45, 46

Beckett, Capt. H. L 46

Blyth, Capt 46

Bradford, " MiUer " 26

Clark, George 45

Cotton, Sir St. Vincent 29, 45

Fitzgerald, Mr 45

Fownes, Edvvin 46

Freeman, Stewart 46, 49

Gwynne, Sackville Frederick 29

Harboiir, Cliarles 41, 64

Haworth, Capt 45, 46

Jerningham, Hon. Fred 29

Lawrie, Capt 45

Londes borough. Earl of 46

McCalmont, Hugh 46

Meek, George 46

Pole, E. S. Chandos 45, 46

Pole-Gell, Mr 46

Sandys, Hon. H 49

Selby, Jas 41, 49. 64, 73, 74. 75, 89

Stevenson, Henry 29, 30

Stracey-Clitherow, Col 46

Thynne, Lord H 45

Tiffany, Mr 46

Vanderbilt, Alfred Gwynne 61

Wemyss, Randolph 49

Wiltshire, Earl of 46

Worcester, Marquis of 29, 38

Coaching Records 41, 64, 73, 74. 88, 89

Cold Blow 159

Colliers' Water 108

Colliers of CYoydon 108

Coulsdon 131, 133

County Oak 178

Covert, Family of 238-244

Crawley 93, 173, 182-195

Crawley Downs 191-193

Croydon 106-123

Cuckfield 30, 202-209

Place 209-222, 242"

CYcUng 64-71, 74-79, 85-91

Cj'cling NotabiUtiea : —

Edge, Selwyn Francis 75, 76, 89

Holbein, M. A 74

Mavall, John, Junior 66-69, 70, 88

Shorland, F. W 74, 89

Smith, C. A 75, 76, 77, 89

Turner, Rowley B 66, 67, 69

Cycling Records 68-79, 85-91

Dale 93, 248, 250

Dance, Sir Charles 37, 39

INDEX

PAGE

Ditchling 224

Driving Records 63, 73, 194

Eariswood Coiumou 93, 146, 148

Fauntleroy, Ilonry 196

Foxley Hatch 93, 126

Frenches 93, 145

Friar's Oak 226

Gatton 141-145, 164

Gatwlck 155

George IV., Prince Regent and King, 3, 6, 8-11, 24, 62,
88, 132, 191-194, 256-262, 266

Hancock, Walter 34, 88

Hand Cross 24, 93, 196, 198-201

Hill 61

Hassall, Phcebe 268

Hassocks 226

Hayvvard's Heath 205

Hickstead 200, 245

" Hobby-horses " 65

Holmesdalo 172

Hoolcy 136

Horley 93, 149, 161-155, 173

Ifield 175, 178-182. 188

" Infant," Steam Carriage 37

Inns (mentioned at length) : —

Black Swan, Pease Pottage 195

Chequers, Horley 152

Cock, Sutton 159

Friar's Oak 24, 226

George, Borough 12-14

Crawley 114, 187, 189

Golden Cross, Charing Cross 20, 33

Green Cross, Ansty Cross 222

Greyhound, Croydon 114

Sutton 159

Hatchett's («*?« White Horse Cellar).

Old King's Head, Croydon 115

Old Ship, Brighton 12

Red Lion, Hand Cross 200

Six Bells, Horley 153

Surrey Oaks, Parkgate 179

Tabard, Borough (xce Talbot).

Talbot. Borough 12-14, 17

Talbot, Cuckfleld 206

Tangier, Banstcad Downs 160

White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly 34

Jacob's Post 224

Johnson, Dr. Samuel 102-106, 257

Kenncrsley 173

Keimington 92-96

Kimberham Bridge 173

Kingswood 162

THE BRIGHTON ROAD

PAGE

Lade, Sir Johu 267

Lemon, Mark 190

Little Hell ' ,.159

Lowfleld Heath 173-175, 182

^[orstham 93, 134, 138-141

Milestones 126-130, 159, 163

Mitcham 155

Mole, River 149, 152, 173-175, 196

Motor-cars 50, 53, 54, 57-61, 63

Motor-car Day, Nov. 14th, 1896 53-60

Motor-omnibus, Accident to 60

Newdigate 176

Newtiniber 247, 248

Norbury 105

Old-time Travellers : —

Burton, Dr. John 16

Cobbett, WilUam 161, 165, 168, 178

George IV., Prince Regent and King {see

" George the Fourth.")
Walpole, Horace 16-18

Pangdean 253

Patcham 25, 93, 250, 251-255

Pavilion, The 256-261, 268

Pease Pottage 195, 197

Pedestrian Records 64, 69, 72, 75, 79-91

Pilgrims' Way, The 164

Povey Cross 155, 173, 175

Preston 93, 250, 255

Prize-fighting 5. 191, 248-250

Pugilistic Notabilities : —

Cribb, Tom 190

Fe^vterel 132

Hickman, " The Gas-Light Man " 192

Jackson, " Gentleman " 132, 159

Martin, " Master of the Rolls " 5, 192

Randall, Jack, " the Nonpareil " 5, 192

Sayers, Tom 248

Purley 93, 121-125, 130, 176

Pyecombe 200, 249, 250

Railway to Brighton opened 42, 131

" Records " 61-91

(See severally. Coaching, Cj'cling, Driving
Pedestrian, and Riding).

Tabulated 88-91

Redhill 93, 145

Reigate 27, 93, 164-172

Hill 162-164

Riding Records 62, 88

Roman Roads 102

" Rookwood " 209-222

Routes to Brighton 1-4

Rowlandson, Thomas 157, 185, 187, 203, 263

Ruskin, John 106, 115

Russell of Killowen, Baron 161

RusseU (or Russel), Dr. Richard 262

INDEX

PAGE

St. John's Common 103, 223

St. Leonard's Forest 196, 199

Salfords 93, 149, 173

Sayers Common 248

8idlow Bridge 173

Slaugham 238-246

Place 240-242

Slough Green 93

Smitham Bottom 68, 129, 131-133, 136

Southwark 12-14

Staplefleld Common 200

Steam Carriages 34, 37, 50, 63

Stoat's Nest 132

Stock Exchange Walk 80-82

Stonepound 93, 227, 231

Streatham 100, 103-105, 107

Surrey Iron Railway, The 122, 136

Sussex Roads 15, 178, 237, 242, 237, 242

Sutton 93, 156-159, 161

Tadwortih Court 161

TetterseU, Captain 268, 270

Thackeray. W. M 9, 10, 266

Thornton Heath 103. 105-108

Thralc Place 103-105

Thrales, The 103-105

Thimderfield Castle 149-152

Tilgate Forest Row 173, 196

Tooke, John Home 124

Turnpike Gates 92, 126, 145, 195, 226-228, 253

Velocipedes 65-69

Walking Records (»ee Pedestrian Records).

Westminster Bridge 1. 3, 14, 129

Whlteman's Green 202

Whitgift, ArchbLshop 109-114

Wilderness Bottom 161

Withdean 253, 255

Wivelsfleld 224

Woodhatch 93

Wray Park 93

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